The Hardest Battles
by Lunamionny
Summary: 'Sometimes the hardest battles are the ones we fight in our own mind.' What happened at Hogwarts during the year the trio were hunting Horcruxes? Follow the lives of several characters through the Carrows' reign of Hogwarts, including all the angst of a forbidden, secret Slytherin/Gryffindor relationship...
1. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

 **Summary** : What happened at Hogwarts during the year the trio were hunting Horcruxes? Follow the lives of several characters through the Carrows' reign of Hogwarts, including all the angst of a forbidden, secret Slytherin/Gryffindor relationship. It's told from the POV of Ginny, Lavender and Neville, corresponding to the three school terms, with the POV of Parvati and Theo interwoven throughout. Parvati and Theo are the main pairing, and side-pairings include Seamus/Lavender, Neville/Hannah (and Ginny pining for Harry, of course ;o) ). Other characters that are developed in this story include: Luna, Padma, Daphne, Draco, Blaise, Snape and Marcus Flint. The way this story deviates from canon the most is the 'conflicted/good Slytherin' action...

It's updated every one to two weeks.

This piece of writing is my own but all characters and the world of Harry Potter belong to by Rowling.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: About half-way through this story, there is a depiction of a sexual assault (not rape). It is not particularly prolonged, but it _is_ described from the victims/survivors POV, and it is referred to later in the fic. There is also implied non-con/sexual humiliation and brief references to systematic sexual abuse (again, not depictions of it) at other points in the story. Additionally, there are two or three depictions of violence/torture that are probably more graphic than how violence/torture is described in canon. That being said, sexual assault/violence are not a regular part of the plot.

* * *

 **Ch. 1. The Promise**

 _'"Molly, it was just a Boggart," [Lupin] said soothingly, patting her on the head. "Just a stupid Boggart…"_

 _"I see them d-d-dead all the time!" Mrs Weasley moaned into his shoulder. "All the t-t-_ _time! I d-d-dream about it…"'_

\- Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

 **Ginny**

For many years now, not long before 11am on the 1st of September on King's Cross' platform Nine and Three Quarters, travellers were likely to come across a gaggle of noisy redheads in the crowd; their hair shining like a beacon through the steam billowing from the Hogwarts Express. However, this year only two Weasleys stood amongst the bustling witches and wizards on the platform. The family had thought it safer to be as inconspicuous as possible and for Ginny to be accompanied by just her mother this year.

"You don't have to go, you know. We'd understand -"

"Mum, we've had this conversation a hundred times. I've _got_ to go to Hogwarts this year! If I don't go, everyone at home will be in even more danger than they already are!"

Ginny had grown so much over the last year that her mother no longer had to bend down to meet her eyes. Nevertheless, she inclined her head slightly, grasping Ginny's shoulders and fixing her with an earnest look.

"Yes, but we could deal with that if we needed to -"

"Mum, the train's leaving in a minute." This wasn't quite true; but Ginny, as ever, found these kinds conversations with her mother difficult and was impatient to get it over with as quickly as possible.

"I know, I know. But please, _promise_ me you won't do anything reckless. That you'll do everything you can to not get in trouble this term. To keep yourself _safe_." Her mother pleaded, tightening her grip on Ginny. The dull knot in her stomach, which had been there since the night of Bill and Fleur's wedding, tightened. Ginny desperately wanted to reassure her mother, but she didn't know what awaited her during her sixth year at Hogwarts. She didn't want to make promises that would be hard to keep.

"I'll try, Mum." Ginny knew her response sounded unconvincing but it was the best she could do. Clearly, though, it wasn't good enough for her mother.

"Ginny," Mrs Weasley's tired smile faded and her face became serious. "Do you remember when we cleaned out Grimmauld Place, in the summer before your fourth year?"

"Yes." Ginny would never forget it: the summer Harry had bought Cedric's broken body back from that graveyard.

"And I cleared that Boggart out from the old chest in the drawing room?"

"Vaguely." Ginny said, puzzled and inpatient. Why was her mum talking about this now?

"Well, I didn't do such a good job – and the Boggart took the form of my worst fear," Her mother paused, as if bracing herself. "It was all of your brothers, Ginny, in turn. Dead. And your father. And Harry too. But you weren't amongst them, because back then I knew I could keep you safe. My youngest, my only daughter. But if I were to come across a Boggart now Ginny, I know you'd be there amongst them too."

Ginny was quiet as the understanding her mother's words sank in. "What exactly are you trying to guilt trip me in to, Mum?" The retort came out more sullenly than she intended.

"I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, Ginny. I'm trying to explain how much I worry, and why it's so important that you promise me you'll do all you can to keep yourself safe. I know you: you're brave, you're fierce, and I wouldn't want you any other way. But those traits in these times, Ginny… they can get one into trouble." There were tears swimming in her mother's eyes now, and Ginny felt the stinging of her own which were threatening to escape. Despite her better judgment, Ginny conceded to her mother's wishes.

'Okay. I promise.' She said quietly.

Her mum smiled and nodded, then she embraced her daughter so ferociously Ginny's breath was momentarily squeezed from her lungs. The Hogwarts Express let out a deafening roar, temporarily enveloping them in a wave of black smoke. It was a warning that it would depart in the next few minutes, prompting the mother and daughter to exchange quick goodbyes and for Ginny to hastily board the train, pulling her trunk behind her.

As the train pulled away Ginny walked down the aisle peering into compartments, trying to find a seat. She glimpsed a group of Slytherins in one and Draco Malfoy turned towards her, catching her eye and smirking. Ginny gifted him with one of her most deadly, blazing glares, then looked away dismissively and continued walking. A group of her Quidditch friends called to her from another compartment, inviting her in to sit with them. Ginny smiled warmly at them but continued on down the train - the Quidditch clique were usually fun to be around but their boisterousness and loud chatter were the last things Ginny needed right now.

She _needed_ to be around people that would understand the gravity, the seriousness of the situation they were in: returning to Hogwarts where a now confirmed Death Eater, the man who had killed Albus Dumbledore, was headmaster; in a time when Voldemort had taken control of the ministry in all but name, and by default, Hogwarts itself. So she was grateful and relieved when she came across a compartment that was empty except for Neville and Luna. They were sitting next to each other, apparently in the midst of earnest conversation. Relieved that she could be alone with them Ginny opened the door, causing Luna and Neville to break off their conversation and glance up. The three smiled at each other and exchanged greetings as Ginny sat down.

"I was just telling Neville what happened at your brother's wedding." Luna said, her eyes wide and serious.

"Sounds grim." Neville commented gravely.

"Yeah, it was, turned in to a massive shit storm chaos and interrogations. But they finally gave up questioning those of us who hadn't apparated away." Ginny said shortly. Over the summer there had been numerous conversations between the Weasleys and the Order that had dissected the events of her brother's wedding, and Ginny didn't want to talk about it again. Not right now, anyway.

"I'm guessing Harry and Hermione have gone into hiding. D'you know if they're okay?" Neville asked eagerly, then he glanced at the compartment door and back to Ginny. "And where's Ron?"

Ginny paused before answering. She knew it was important that as few people as possible knew of Ron's real whereabouts; but Luna and Neville had shown their loyalty to Harry, Ron and Hermione countless times. She remembered how they had both come running unquestioningly at Harry's call for help at the end of last year and had fought the Death Eaters bravely in the Astronomy tower. She knew she was going to need people she could confide in this term otherwise she might go mad, so Ginny made a decision to trust them.

"We don't know where Ron is," Ginny said, and continued to tell Neville and Luna about the ghoul-and-spattergroit rouse, emphasising to them how important it was that no one else knew. "And Hermione's meant to be in Australia with her parents, but she's not. She, Harry and Ron disapparated at the wedding. We don't know where any of them are."

Ginny knew, from overhearing Lupin talking with her parents one night in August, that the three had been at Grimmauld Place at around that time, but she had no idea if they were still there. The looks on her two friends' faces as Ginny told them her news were so solemn and earnest that she was reassured they were taking the situation with the gravity it deserved. She felt she could confide in them further, so she leaned in close to them and continued in a low voice. "Harry told me he had something to do, something about V-Voldemort," Ginny was still getting used to saying the dark wizard's real name out loud, but it was something she had been determined to do since the summer. "But they wouldn't tell me what. The three of them had been planning it all summer. They were never going to come back, regardless of the attack at Bill's wedding."

"What do you suppose it is they're trying to do?" Neville asked, and Ginny shook her head.

"No idea. I couldn't get anything out of them all summer."

The three friends sat in silence for a few minutes.

"I don't think a lot of people will be coming back this term," Neville said eventually. "My Gran kept saying that even though they've made it compulsory to attend Hogwarts, it would be crazy for muggle-borns to come."

"I expect she's probably right," Luna said, as she gazed out the window at the back gardens of terraced houses that were rushing past. The train was picking up speed as it headed into the London suburbs. "I think Hogwarts is going to be very different this year."

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 **A/N:** Your reviews mean the world to me, so I would love to hear what you think. Thank you :o)


	2. Chapter 3

**Ch. 2 The Sorting Hat's Warning**

 _'And we must unite inside her / Or we'll crumble from within...'_

\- The Sorting Hat, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

 **Ginny **

Luna's prediction was realised almost immediately that evening at the start of term feast. Instead of the usual loud, carefree chatter of hundreds of students exchanging stories of their summer holidays, the mood at the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables was subdued and apprehensive. Ginny and her fellow Gryffindors were noting those students who were markedly absent from their table.

"It wasn't safe for Dean, being muggle-born. He's gone on the run," Seamus was explaining in a whisper to her and Neville. "He managed to get a message to me the end of July, but I haven't heard anything since."

Ginny felt for Seamus, being without his best friend of six years. As she thought about where Dean and the other missing students might be, a conversation between Lavender and Parvati, who were sitting opposite her, drifted over to her.

"Have you seen Theodore Nott? He's blossomed over the summer." Lavender was saying.

Ginny and Parvati looked subtly over to the Slytherin table. Theo Nott had, indeed, 'blossomed' as Lavender had put it. He'd previously been quite a skinny, scrawny boy from what Ginny could remember - but he seemed to have broadened out, become more…solid. He was looking down at the table whilst Malfoy whispered something in his ear, wavy dark hair falling in front of bright blue eyes. He had what Ginny's mother would call 'dangerous good looks'.

"Lavender," Ginny admonished, turning back around. "He's a Death Eater's son."

"I know, I know, hence he's repulsive, yes. You'd never actually _go_ there. But just from an objective, aesthetic point of view…"

"He is hot." Parvati agreed, who's eyes were still directed towards the Slytherin table.

"Hot Nott." Lavender rhymed, and the two girls broke into giggles.

Ginny rolled her eyes as the large oak doors of the Great Hall swung open and Professor McGonagall marched in, followed by a group of nervous looking first years. When she reached the front of the hall, Professor McGonagall purposely placed the ancient, tattered hat on the sorting stool. There was a moment of silence before it burst into its normal song, describing the attributes of the four houses, but then it started to sing words Ginny hadn't heard before:

 _On this same day two years ago_

 _As the older students may recall,_

 _I broke off from my normal song_

 _To give a warning to this school._

 _And this year there appears a need_

 _To repeat it, and to add more,_

 _So listen carefully to my next words_

 _They're important, that's for sure._

 _You'll remember that I once told you_

 _Of the warning history shows,_

 _And that Hogwarts was in danger_

 _From external deadly foes,_

 _Now those enemies are in our midst_

 _Yes, inside this very school!_

 _So the good amongst you must to unite_

 _Against the dark and the cruel._

 _Being sorted into these four houses_

 _Can gift you with friends and allies,_

 _But it also splits and separates_

 _Causing you to doubt and to despise._

 _You see, from division and distrust_

 _Hate and fear are fed,_

 _And in these times of great unrest_

 _They only fuel bloodshed._

 _So I have warned you yet again_

 _Let us not waste further time,_

 _It is now the time for sorting_

 _So you can drink and you can dine!_

There was a bewildered silence after the Sorting Hat had finished, followed by murmuring and a spattering of applause.

"It's building up quite a repertoire, that hat, isn't it?" Seamus said dryly. Ginny smiled, although the hat's words had made her uneasy. As the Sorting started, Ginny noticed Lavender craning her neck to get a better look at the High Table.

"Who're they?" Lavender spat with overt disgust, nodding towards a man and woman that were sitting next to Professor Sprout. The woman was stocky, with sloping shoulders and her hair pulled back in a severe bun. The man was also squat and hunched, with tiny eyes and a lopsided leer. They both looked familiar to Ginny, and with a sickening twist in her stomach she realised where she had seen them before. She nudged Neville next to her.

"They were both at the Astronomy Tower at the end of last year - during the fight. They're Death Eaters!' She hissed. Ginny noticed the colour fade slightly from Neville's cheeks as he turned to look at the teachers' table. She understood why he looked so grave. The fact there were three known Death Eaters on the faculty confirmed what the Sorting Hat had said: there were now enemies within the school. Ginny only half listened as the sorting progressed, her mind drifting back to the absent students. Would they be somewhere warm, about to eat a three course meal?

It was doubtful.

Ginny was losing her appetite somewhat, and forced herself to focus her attention on the sorting.

"Boot, Alfred!' Professor McGonagall called out and a boy with dark brown hair, who bared a strong resemblance to Terry Boot, stepped forward to be sorted.

'Where's Professor Burbage?" Neville mumbled, looking intently at the teachers' table, his eyes narrowed. Ginny looked but couldn't see their Muggle Studies teacher anywhere.

"She doesn't always come to the Great Hall for dinner." Seamus said hopefully.

"She does for the start of term feast," Neville whispered back. "No Hagrid either…"

"Well, they're not going to let him teach… not being a half-breed, as they call it."

When the sorting was finished, a hush descended over the Great Hall as Professor Snape stood up and made his way to the lectern.

"As you are all aware, I am the new Headmaster of Hogwarts," Snape looked around the hall after this announcement, the hint of a smug smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Clapping and some cheering went up from the Slytherin table, but the other three tables remained silent. Ginny's heart started pounding as she stared at Snape, the muscles in her forearms and hands tensing up, her fingers involuntarily curling into fists. _How dare he bloody stand where Dumbledore had once stood after killing the man he had usurped?_ Ginny thought angrily. How was this _happening_?

She looked searchingly at Professor McGonagall, whose face held her usual stern expression; and then to Professor Flitwick, who was managing to look sad and a little alarmed at the same time. _Can't they do something?_ But as soon as she thought it, Ginny remembered helplessly that the teachers were under the power of the Ministry, and by default the power of Voldemort.

"I would like to inform you of some other changes to the staff faculty. Professor Amycus Carrow will be taking up post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, henceforth to be named Dark Arts. Professor Alecto Carrow will be our new Muggle Studies teacher," Snape gestured to the man and woman that Ginny had recognised as Death Eaters. A murmur went through the Great Hall, which was silenced as Snape continued talking. "Professor Grubbly-Plank will resume post of Care of Magical Creatures teacher. Rubeus Hagrid will resume his old post of Keeper of Keys and Grounds. Please note that it is forbidden to consort or converse with Rubeus Hagrid unless strictly necessary for School-Keeper purposes, or instructed to by a member of staff -"

"We can't speak to Hagrid?" Ginny whispered to Neville indignantly. Hagrid was her one connection to the outside world. To the Order. To Harry. Ginny realised that's probably precisely why Snape didn't want any students to speak to him.

"Some other notices," Snape continued. "Disciplinary practices at the school have been reviewed and a new regime is in place. All teachers will refer students requiring punishment to either of the Carrow Professors to be disciplined. The Prefect and Head Girl and Boy system has been disbanded this year in favour of the Inquisitorial Squad, or I.S., which was introduced to this school by the then Professor Umbridge two years ago. Some members of the I.S. have already been appointed. Other students from _all_ houses are invited to come forward and apply. As usual, lessons will commence promptly at 9am on Monday morning. As you are aware, it is Saturday evening and so you will have tomorrow to settle in. However," Snape paused and looked up from the lectern, looking around slowly at each of the house tables as if in an attempt to emphasise his next words. "All sixth and seventh year students are required to attend a ceremony at sundown tomorrow evening. It will take place in the main courtyard. I must emphasise to all that attendance at this event is _compulsory_ ," Snape curled his lips upwards in what might have been an attempt at a smile but which actually looked like a grimace. "Thank you. Welcome to Hogwarts to our new students and to our old, welcome back."

* * *

Sunday was mostly spent with the usual start of term fare: unpacking, exchanging holiday stories, and reviewing their new timetables. Ginny was finding it harder being back at Hogwarts than she'd expected. Memories of Harry were everywhere, especially in the Gryffindor common room. As she came down from her dormitory mid-afternoon, she was almost surprised to see Neville, Seamus and Lavender sitting on the worn sofa by the fireplace - she had been so used to it being Harry, Ron and Hermione's spot. Without realising it, Ginny found herself standing and frowning at the three of them. They didn't seem to notice, being absorbed in a game of exploding snap. Lavender let out a squeal as two Jack of Hearts cards exploded in her face and Seamus and Neville laughed raucously. Ginny suddenly felt annoyed - didn't they care about their absent friends? Didn't they miss them too? Lavender looked up, noticing Ginny.

"Wanna play?" Lavender asked pleasantly.

"No. I'm going out." Ginny snapped, turning to grab her coat from where it hung by the portrait hole.

"Are you okay Ginny?" Neville asked, a frown of concern on his face.

"Why wouldn't I be okay? There's obviously nothing to not be okay about!" Ginny snapped as she stormed out the common room.

She marched towards the main exit, thinking about seeing if Hagrid was home but then remembering with another wave of annoyance that visiting Hagrid was forbidden. She couldn't break the rules on her second day, not after what she had promised her mum. So she decided on the next best thing: flying. Older students who were experienced fliers were allowed to take their brooms and practice in their free time, as long as they stayed within certain boundaries of the school grounds. Surely that rule hadn't changed either?

Ginny hurried to the broom shed and grabbed her broom - she had taken Ron's this year as it was better than hers and, well, he had no use for it wherever he was - and took off, ascending high above the Quidditch pitch. Flying, as always, brought the relief that Ginny craved. She had only done a few laps of the Quidditch pitch before her annoyance dissipated and she started to feel guilty for snapping at Neville and Lavender. Of course they could sit where they wanted in the common room, and to play snap if they wanted - they were probably just trying to feel normal at a time when things felt so… wrong.

It was late afternoon when Ginny headed back to the castle, dumping her broom in haste when she remembered that she needed to be at the mysterious 'ceremony' that Snape had mentioned in his speech. As she entered the castle through the side entrance to make her way straight through to the main courtyard, she was startled to hear Snape's disembodied voice echo through the corridor.

"All sixth and seventh year students are to proceed to the main courtyard immediately."

As she walked past the bottom of Gryffindor Tower, Ginny was joined by Parvati, Seamus, Neville and Lavender who had just come down the stairs on their way to the courtyard. Snape's message was repeated, reverberating eerily against the stone walls of the castle.

"How's he _doing_ that?" Parvati asked disconcertedly.

"A pretty advanced Sonorus charm, I'd imagine." Seamus said grimly.

"Anybody know what this ceremony thing is actually about?" Neville asked nervously.

"No idea," Lavender replied. "I asked around some 'Claws and 'Puffs this morning, to try and get some goss on it, but no one seemed to know anything."

Just then a group of students came running down the corridor towards them. They were exclaiming loudly, and as they came nearer Ginny made out Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil. They halted when they reached the group of Gryffindors, attempting to catch their breath. Michael and Padma both looked furious and anxiety was etched on Anthony's face.

"What's wrong?" Neville demanded.

"Have they been to Gryffindor too?" Terry asked.

"Who? What d'you mean?" Lavender said, and then the Ravenclaws all started talking at once.

"The Carrows -"

"And some of the I.S.-"

"They ransacked our common room!"

"Took nearly all of them -"

"They did what? Took all of _what_?" Ginny shouted above the din of voices. The Ravenclaws fell silent for a moment, then Michael spoke, his face grave.

"They said it was in preparation for this evening. I don't know what this ceremony's going to be about, but it's not going to be good."

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A/N: Your thoughts and reviews are cherished and treasured.


	3. Ch 3 Purification

**Ch. 3 Purification**

 _"_ _ _Words are, in my not so humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic."__

 _ _-__ Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

 ** **Ginny****

" _ _What__ did they take from your common room?" Ginny demanded, trying to make sense of the Ravenclaws' outburst.

"Books. They must have taken hundreds of them," Padma stated.

Parvati must have noticed the looks of confusion on her fellow Gryffindors' faces because she said by way of explanation: "I think the Ravenclaw common room is basically a library."

Ginny sighed in relief. Books weren't as bad as some of the things she had been thinking the Carrows may have stripped from Ravenclaw Tower.

"Yeah and -" Anthony said, but he was interrupted by Snape's disembodied voice again.

"All sixth and seventh years are to proceed to the main courtyard immediately."

"We'd better go." Neville said and the group turned and headed to the courtyard, joining a rush of other students that were also on their way. As they approached the exit of the castle, they came to a halt at the back of the crowd of students in front of them. Members of the Inquisitorial Squad were pushing people into two orderly lines as they edged towards the exit. Ginny craned her neck to try and see what the holdup was but all she could see was the backs of students. When she finally came to the doorway, Daphne Greengrass thrust a book in her hand from a huge pile on the ground just outside the exit.

"Take this," Daphne commanded. Ginny noticed a silver badge in the shape of the letters I.S. pinned to her coat. "And wands in there. You'll get them back after the ceremony." Daphne gestured towards an open wooden box that already had a pile of students' wands in. Neville, who was in front of Ginny in the queue, hesitated.

"Why do we have to give up our wands?" he asked suspiciously.

"No questions now, Longbottom, you're holding up the line." Daphne flourished her own wand and Neville's sprung out of his hand, flew through the air and landed neatly in the box.

"Hey!" Neville objected, but Daphne just stared at him, her eyebrows raised.

It seemed that all the students ahead of them had given up their wands, and that the I.S. had been given permission to disarm students if they refused to do so. The promise Ginny had made to her mother was swimming through her mind.

"Let's just do it Neville. Come on," Ginny said in resignation as she dropped her wand in the box and nudged Neville forward into the courtyard. Ginny glanced at the pile of books as she walked past it and noticed several copies of __A History of Magic__ and __A Complete Guide to the Muggle World__ lying on the top.

The students were being marched around the edge of the courtyard and made to form an orderly circle, facing the centre. In the middle of the circle was a huge pile of wood. It reminded Ginny of the bonfires that her Dad and brothers made at the Burrow every New Year's Eve. The Carrows were standing by the wood pile, surveying the students. Each student grasped a book; it seemed that everyone had been given one from the pile. Ginny looked down at the one in her hand: __A Comparative Study of Muggle and Magical Sports__.

"What the hell is this?" Ginny heard Seamus mumble. "A cosy Hogwarts book group?" Parvati, who stood between her and Seamus, chuckled quietly. When all the students had assembled in the courtyard, Amycus raised his hand, in which he also held a book, high into the air.

"Welcome!" he bellowed, causing the students to fall silent. "To your first Purification Ceremony! These!" He waved the book in his hand, turning slowly on the spot to ensure he was addressing the whole circle of students. "Are a defilement upon wizarding kind! They have either been written by Muggles or mudbloods, or contain misleading lies about them by blood traitors! There is no place for them in this house of wizarding learning. This ceremony marks the start of the Purification of Hogwarts. We will purge Hogwarts of all things Muggle, starting with these books and the lies that fester in their pages!"

He then turned and nodded to Alecto who flicked her wand at the pile of wood. It instantly burst into flames and, even from many metres away, Ginny could feel the heat of it on her cheeks. Amycus strode towards the bonfire and hurled his book on it. It was instantly swallowed by the flames. Alecto promptly did the same with a book in her hand.

"We thought it would be a special start to the new year to give each sixth and seventh year the privilege of taking a symbolic part in the start of this Purification. One by one, you will each come forward and throw the book in your hand on the fire."

Ginny's stomach turned. She looked around the courtyard and up at the school, searching in vain for other teachers. But then she saw, on a seventh floor balcony that overlooked the courtyard, the outline of Snape; his black cloak billowing about his legs in the evening breeze. He was too far away for Ginny to see his expression.

"You!" Amycus gestured to Vincent Crabbe. "You go first. Then the student to your left, and so on."

Crabbe strode towards the fire and without any hesitation flung his book on it, before returning to his place in the circle. Amycus' face broke into his lopsided leer.

"Next!" he shouted. Malfoy then came forward, his face set in a grim expression. He seemed to hesitate once he got to the bonfire, but then in one swift movement also tossed his book on the flames. Next was Pansy Parkinson, who seemed to make a special effort to throw her book high into the air so that it landed right in the middle of the blaze. Then Theodore Nott, who had a smirk on his face which implied he thought the whole thing was a joke. He barely raised his arm to discard his book, which would smoulder on the edge of the flames for the rest of the evening. Ginny noticed that they all wore the same silver I.S. badge she had seen on Daphne. Snape __had__ been busy recruiting his little army. It was clear Amycus had deliberately asked the Slytherins to start this 'ceremony' to set an obedient example to the rest of the students.

Next to walk to the fire was a sixth year Hufflepuff boy who Ginny didn't know. The boy's walk was tentative and he stopped when he got to the blaze, looking with uncertainty at Amycus then back at the fire.

"Come on," Amycus urged. The boy attempted to throw his book but it landed inches short of the flickering flames. Ginny couldn't tell whether he had done this on purpose or not.

"Try again," Amycus sneered with obvious irritation. The boy bent to pick up the book and did as he'd been ordered. This time it made its target.

The sun was setting behind the mountains now, causing slivers of red and gold light to bleed out across the sky, and the mood in the courtyard had turned quiet and sombre. Ginny glanced down at the book in her hand, looking at the cover more closely. In the dancing light of the fire, she made out a witch - a Quidditch player on a broomstick flying as if to escape from the cover - and a Muggle boy kicking a ball across some grass. Ginny thought of Hermione curled up in the Gryffindor common room with a book in her lap or hidden under a stack of tomes in the library. Hermione would have hated this. Ginny wondered how she would feel if they were burning broomsticks now instead of books. It would be like someone ripping a limb from her, taking a part of her very self. Familiar feelings were rising up in her, feelings she had been trying to smother ever since saying the words 'I promise' to her mother: anger. Outrage. Fury.

Ginny looked up from her book, trying to calm the increasing pounding of her heart, and saw that it was Padma's turn to come forward to the bonfire. However, as Padma made her way to the centre of the courtyard, Ginny realised she wasn't walking towards the fire but was taking deliberate steps up to where Amycus was standing. The students watched in silence, the only sound the occasional crackling of the fire and Padma's footsteps echoing through the courtyard as she walked unhurriedly towards their new professor. When the Ravenclaw girl reached him, she stopped and held her book out in front of her.

"Oh Padma…" Ginny heard Parvati murmur, alarm in her voice.

Amycus looked down at Padma in surprise.

"Child," he said disdainfully, pointing at the bonfire. "The fire is over there."

Padma was turned away from Ginny so that she couldn't see her face, only the two long plaits that fell down her back, but she could see that the girl's outstretched arm had started shaking slightly.

"Padma, it's only a book!" Ginny heard Parvati plead quietly by her side. But Ginny, remembering Tom Riddle's diary, knew the power that books could hold, and that the Ravenclaws probably felt that the burning of books was a violation against the very soul of their house.

"No. I won't do it," Padma's voice rang out clear and confidently through the autumn evening. She lowered her arm after Amycus failed to take the book, bent down and placed it gently on the ground by his feet. When she rose, she looked up, staring the Death Eater straight in the face. "Where books are burned, in the end, people will also be burned."

Amycus's face contorted in a mixture of rage and disbelief, and there was a tense stillness amongst the students watching. No one dared move. Then he raised his wand and pointed it at Padma. He paused for a moment or so, then he appeared to change his mind and lowered his wand, at the same time striking out with his other arm and hitting Padma violently across the face. She fell to the ground.

"Padma!" Parvati cried out and made to run towards her twin - Ginny reached out instinctively to hold her back, as Seamus did the same on Parvati's other side. They had no wands; it seemed that anything they did would be futile. Ginny glanced up quickly at the seventh floor balcony and saw Snape turn abruptly from the scene below him and stride into the castle.

"Child," their new teacher said contemptuously. "I will give you one more chance to respect the honour that you have been given. Get up and place your book on the fire."

Sprawled on the ground, Padma raised herself on one arm, holding her other hand to a bloodied nose. She looked directly up at her assailant's face and to Ginny's amazement continued to talk.

"A man said that many years ago," Padma's voice shook this time, but was still audible. "He was a __Muggle__!" She said the last word with finality and defiance.

Amycus, furious, stretched out his arm again and pointed his wand at Padma. "Debilis!" he cried.

It was not a spell that Ginny had heard before but she very quickly realised it was a dark curse, because Padma instantly fell back to the ground, her back arching involuntarily as she let out a ear-piercing scream that cut like a knife through the dark evening.

* * *

A/N: Credit to Heinrich Heine for the quote 'Where books are burned, in the end, people will also be burned'.

Let me know what you think! Your thoughts and reviews are cherished and treasured.


	4. Ch 4 Defiance

**Ch. 4 Defiance**

 _'Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw / If you've a ready mind / Where those of wit and learning / Will always find their kind'_

\- The Sorting Hat, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.

 **Ginny**

"No!" Parvati cried out again, flinching as if the pain that was clearly blasting through Padma's body was coursing through hers too.

She started to run to Padma again and this time neither Ginny nor Seamus stopped her. There was a movement on the other side of the circle as Terry and Michael made to move towards Padma too, but they hesitated once Parvati had reached her twin and knelt down beside her. Amycus was still casting his curse and Padma's screams had turned to anguished cries.

"Stop! Please stop!" Parvati begged over Padma's wails, looking up at Amycus.

Amycus ceased casting but his arm remained outstretched. He studied Parvati for a moment and then abruptly lowered his wand. His expression remained furious but he appeared to be attempting to control his rage. He turned from the twins and addressed the students again.

"Anybody else who refuses to take part in this ceremony will face an equivalent punishment! I hope I have made myself understood!"

Amycus rotated on the spot as he spoke, pausing dramatically with every turn. Padma remained lying on the ground and Ginny could see that Parvati was leaning over her, murmuring desperately. The ensuing silence was momentarily broken by the bonfire spitting and crackling loudly as a large piece of wood cascaded onto the ground.

There was movement on the edge of the circle opposite Ginny: Luna had stepped forward. The moonlight was reflecting off her pale blonde hair, glowing against the dark shadows cast by the fire. She took a few more steps forward, watching Amycus with impenetrable calm. Slowly she bent down and placed her book gently on the ground before stepping backwards, retaking her place in the circle.

Her intention was clear: she was not relinquishing her book to the flames either.

Then, at another part of the circle, Michael and Anthony stepped forward, followed by Terry, all placing their books on the ground and stepping back. Amycus turned abruptly towards them, brandishing his wand, and let out a frustrated grunt. Ginny looked down again at the book in her hand, at the Quidditch player and the footballer, and found her feet moving forwards as she herself copied her fellow students' gesture, dropping her book gently to the ground and stepping back. She was quickly followed by Neville and Seamus, and then, all round the circle, more students stepped forward and discarded their books. Amongst them Ginny saw Susan Bones and Ernie MacMillan.

"No!" Amycus roared. He was spinning around frantically now, waving his wand in all directions, evidently uncertain how to respond to this unexpected act of mass disobedience.

" _Stupify_!" he cried, aiming the curse at Lavender, who had just dropped her book to the ground. She successfully dodged the curse by a few inches. Amycus spun around and shot another stunning spell, this time at Hannah Abbott. She went to duck out of its way, but the spell skimmed the edge of her shoulder and she staggered backwards. As Ernie went to help Hannah, Ginny felt someone pushing past her from behind.

"Stop! Stop this at once!" Professor McGonagall stormed in to the centre of the courtyard and up to Amycus. "Professor Carrow, I understood that _observation_ of this ceremony was mandatory but _participation_ was to be voluntary!"

"Then we appear to have misunderstood each other," Amycus sneered and gestured to Padma who was still lying on the ground, with Parvati leaning over her. "This girl has shown a clear disrespect of Magical kind."

"Professor Carrow, you must _desist_ from such measures!" McGonagall demanded, clearly shocked at the sight of Padma.

"I'm afraid it is not you that decides on punishment, McGonagall." Alecto, who had come to join the fraught conversation, said scornfully.

There was a scuffle again on the edge of the circle and Snape pushed his way through the students, striding towards the small group of teachers at the centre.

"Professor Carrow," Snape's tone was slow and measured. "I see that dark clouds have gathered overhead and fear a storm is not far off. I think we should move on with this ceremony without further delay lest the rain put out the impressive fire your sister has conjured."

Amycus stared hard at Snape for some moments, appearing to make up his mind about something, then he turned to Alecto and spoke quietly to her. She nodded and in one swift movement, swept her wand around the entirety of the courtyard.

"Accio books!" she cried out and all the books, those that had been discarded on the ground and those still in students' hands, sailed through the air and came together in the space just above the burning bonfire. They hovered there for one precarious moment, and then Alecto abruptly lowered her wand and the books fell straight in to the centre of the pyre.

Ginny had been aware their gesture would likely be futile. Yet in their defiance, they had refused to be part of the destruction of the books, and in so doing they had gained a small yet vital victory.

 **Theo**

He'd noticed her before, of course. It would have been hard not to - she'd possibly been the most remarked upon girl in the school, after Ginny Weasley of course. Remarked upon in the way Slytherin boys remarked about any of their female 'blood-traitor' peers; the bloke-chat of the Slytherin dorms had been a twisted mixture of crude suggestion, misogynistic dismissal, and sometimes a spattering of backhanded-compliments. Desire and hatred were a confusing mix, after all. ' _She's so hot I'd do her if she wasn't a filthy blood-traitor…_ ', or conversely the leering ' _I'd do her anyway…_ '. There was the occasional ' _Bet she'd love a bit of pureblood in her…_ ', and, of course, the gratuitous ' _Think she'd be a right slut if you got her away from those self-righteous Grffinbores_ '. Theo hadn't really listened to it; comments like that made him cringe anyway and he'd never been impressed by that kind of talk, knowing it was just that - talk.

It was the book burning that changed things. The sight of her as she ran across that dark courtyard to her fallen sister, her long hair flying behind her, her cries and pleads for the pain inflicted on her twin to stop.

Theo had found it mesmerising.

He'd rarely seen such an uninhibited outpouring of raw emotion, what his family and nearly everyone he'd ever known would have considered 'weak': the emotions themselves, the display of them, the pleading. But it wasn't weak at all, was it? In the end, Parvati Patil had braved Amycus's wrath, and his power, by running into that courtyard.

As the other students performed their silent defiance around him, Theo hadn't taken his eyes off her. He watched as she took her twin's hand in hers, leant over and murmured desperately, tears starting to spill from her eyes. He wondered what it was like to have someone care about you so much. To be so distressed that you were suffering that it seemed to cause them physical pain too.

Theo had learnt to bottle and stopper his emotions, from that day in the eighth year of his life, a day that was now burned into his mind forever. The day when his father had performed a very brief, very weak _crucio_ on him - but a _crucio_ nonetheless, and certainly not the last - because he had cried for nearly two days non-stop after their house elf, Dibity, had died. Dibity, who'd been in the family since long before Theo was born, who, in many ways, had been more of a parent to him than his own father. After that day, whenever his father saw him cry - whenever Theo showed any emotion that wasn't anger - some kind of punishment would ensue.

So Theo had learnt to quash sadness and joy, and even fear, deep down into a part of himself that even he couldn't access any more. It had become habit, something he did without being conscious of it; except, of course, when his mother had died, about a year after Dibity. He'd had trouble bottling the anguish then and it had come out as white-hot rage, which seemed to be perfectly acceptable to his father. Anger, for some reason, seemed to be legitimate.

So when others displayed emotions so easily, so quickly - when he'd see someone break into delighted uninhibited laughter, or tears roll down someone's cheeks, or the flicker of fear in someone's eyes - Theo always met it with a mixture of scorn and intrigue. He didn't understand how these people could make themselves so vulnerable, so exposed; and the Patil girl's reaction had intrigued him greatly.

When the students were dismissed from the ceremony, and he watched as the Weasley girl ran to the Patil twins, followed by other Gryffindors and a group of Ravenclaws, Theo tried to shake his interest from his mind. Because it was not a good idea for someone like him to be interested - intrigued - by a blood traitor, no doubt Harry-Potter-loving Gryffindor. He'd surmised already that this year, it would be best for him to continue to hover on the edges of the Slytherin cliques, observing quietly and drawing minimal attention to himself.

So he turned to enter the castle, silent as his fellow Slytherin's recounted the events of the evening, as they revelled in the destruction of the books and the unusual curse that had been inflicted on their school mate.

* * *

A/N: Your thoughts and reviews are cherished and treasured.


	5. Ch 5 Expectations

**Ch. 5 Expectations**

 _'"Age is foolish and forgetful when it underestimates youth."'_

― Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

 **Ginny**

As soon as the ceremony was declared over, Ginny bolted across the cobbles to the Patil twins.

"Is she okay?" She asked urgently, crouching down by Parvati.

"I - I don't know. I can't reach her." Parvati said through tears, looking down at Padma's unconscious body. Ginny thought fleetingly that that was an odd turn of phrase but before she could think more about it, Professor McGonagall was looming over them.

"Miss Patil - and you, Miss Weasley. Take Miss… take Padma to the hospital wing."

"I'll go with them." Lavender, who had joined them along with a crowd of other students, offered immediately.

"No, but thank you. We can't have too many students out of their dormitories at his time; please return to Gryffindor Tower, Miss Brown.'

Lavender started to protest but Professor McGonagall had turned and swept away.

"It's okay - I'll be okay." Parvati reassured her best friend as Lavender continued to frown at her in concern.

Ginny and Parvati used _mobilicorpus_ to transport Padma to the hospital wing. When they got there Madam Pomfrey, with an air of alarm, started bustling around, helping the two girls lower Padma on to a bed. The healer then leant down and swept her wand slowly over the air an inch or two above Padma as Ginny and Parvati watched anxiously. She finally finished her examination and stood up straight.

"Her nose is broken. How did that happen?" Madam Pomfrey demanded.

"Amycus hit her." Parvati stated dully. Ginny noticed the usual spark had gone from Parvati's eyes. She looked exhausted.

"With what spell?"

"None. He just hit her. With his _fist_." Ginny said bitterly.

Madam Pomfrey raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Well then! That's easy enough to fix, of course, being a non-magical wound. And what curse was she subjected to?"

"I hadn't heard it before," explained Ginny, and Parvati shook her head in agreement. "It sounded like 'debility' or something."

"Debilis? Dear, dear, dear. Still, it could be worse. It doesn't look like anything else is broken, but her system's taken quite a shock." The Healer was gently arranging Padma's body on the bed, covering her delicately with the covers, no doubt in an attempt to make Padma as comfortable as possible. Her gestures were tender and careful, a contrast to her often stern exterior and terse words.

"What's the curse, Madam Pomfrey? What does it do?" Ginny asked as Parvati went to sit by Padma, and turned her tear-stained, tired face to Madam Pomfrey. The two girls looked at the healer expectantly, waiting for further explanation.

"It's similar to the Cruciatus Curse in that it initially inflicts pain with no physical marks - although not to nearly the same severity, thank Merlin. It then renders the victim unconscious - debilitated, you understand - for a period of time."

"How long?" Parvati asked, alarm hinting at the edge of her voice.

Madam Pomfrey hesitated. "It varies, depending on how the curse was cast. For Padma, I'd estimate three to four weeks."

"Four weeks? Can't you use enervate or something?" Ginny exclaimed, and Madam Pomfrey shook her head.

"It's more powerful than a stunning spell. It's old, dark magic, not used much anymore; only very dark wizards would know it these days. There's never been anything found that brings people round more quickly once it has been cast. It could have been much worse, you know - there have been people known to be debilitated by this curse for years. Muggles call it a coma."

"Right," Ginny said turning back to Padma, and taking a seat on the other side of the bed to Parvati. "So the Carrows are trying out their old toys on us."

There was an awkward silence.

"We know that she's not in any pain - it's as if she were sleeping," Madam Pomfrey continued in an apparent attempt at comfort. "I'm going to start preparing a reviving potion for when she wakes up - it works at its best if brewed for at least two weeks…" And she shuffled away.

Ginny was left with Parvati and the unconscious Padma. Parvati was clasping one of her twin's hands in both of hers, gazing intently at her, her lips moving silently. As if in response, Parvati stirred and mumbled something incoherent. Ginny felt the impression that there was something passing between the twins that she was excluded from, so she sat back quietly in her chair, watching.

Ginny had not given much attention to the Patil twins before, but observing them both now, she wondered at how the twins looked so alike and yet so different. They shared the same long, thick dark hair; yet Parvati wore hers in waves that cascaded down her back and over her shoulders, whereas Padma nearly always had hers tied back in neat plaits or a high ponytail. They had the same large brown eyes and full mouth, yet in the last couple of years Ginny couldn't remember seeing Parvati's face without Wicked Witches Magical Make-up products all over it. Padma's face had remained natural; raw and unchanged.

Like Lavender, Parvati often wore a somewhat modified school uniform. The two friends must have worn shirts a size too small for them because the material clung to their figures in the 'right' places - the top button nearly always undone, their ties loose. Parvati's skirt was often a few inches above the knee, contrary to the school rules. The Gryffindors had lost count of the times Parvati and Lavender had been called up in front of Professor McGonagall for uniform violations. Some Gryffindors had found it mildly amusing, others had become irritated because the two had kept losing their House often much-needed points. Padma, however, always wore the required uniform neatly done up, her tie tightly fastened, her skirt resting just on the knee. Ginny hadn't ever heard of Padma getting in trouble with teachers before.

Until this evening, of course.

Padma's defiance had surprised Ginny, but then Ginny's mum would have said that it was times like these when people _did_ surprise you; 'extraordinary times often draws out the _extra_ ordinary in people', Molly often liked saying. And Parvati had previously come across to Ginny as playful, lively, humorous at best and shallow, frivolous, thoughtless at worst. But with her desperate concern for her twin, and how she had ran in to the courtyard and shouted at Amycus to stop, Ginny had seen her in a different light - she'd seen the Gryffindor in her.

After ten minutes or so, Madam Pomfrey came hurrying back, dismissing Ginny and Parvati.

"She's comfortable now, and you two need to rest. You can come and visit tomorrow evening." Madam Pomfrey said as Parvati reluctantly released Padma's hand. The two girls headed out of the hospital wing and back to Gryffindor Tower, saying very little.

They stepped through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room to an unexpected scene of busy activity. Seamus was coming down the stairs from the boys' dormitories balancing a random assortment of objects in his arms, which he dumped on the common room table. A pile of things had already been placed there: Ginny spied Dean's West Ham United poster and a small muggle electric radio. Neville was looking through a few piles of books and other objects in the common room and occasionally placing them on the table. A handful of other older Gryffindors were doing the same, although Ginny couldn't see Lavender.

There was a lull in activity as people looked up when Ginny and Parvati entered.

"How's Padma?" Neville asked.

"Madam Pomfrey thinks she'll be okay." Parvati reported and they told the others about the Debilis curse.

"That was a brave thing she did." Seamus remarked, admiration in his voice, to the murmuring of assent from others in the room. It was praise indeed coming from a bunch of Gryffindors, and Ginny saw Parvati smile sadly.

"She's loved books, and reading, since she was little. She was like Hermione in that way."

There was an awkward silence. It seemed no one knew what to say, and Ginny cleared her throat. "Erm...are we doing a little housekeeping?" She joked, looking around.

"You heard them," Seamus said grimly. "Purification. Anything to do with muggles is going to be destroyed. They raided the books from the Ravenclaw common room," He looked down at the pile of possessions on the table, eyeing the West Ham poster. "I'm not letting them get Dean's things."

"We're collecting anything muggle-related or muggle-made," Neville explained. "To save them."

Just then Lavender burst through the door from the girls' dormitories, a huge pile of books in her arms crashing to the floor. "Merlin's balls!" Lavender mumbled as Parvati and Seamus went to help her retrieve the books.

"Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bront." Seamus read in an unimpressed tone, eyeing one of the covers before surveying the pile of books. "Have you been hiding a muggle library in your dorm?"

"Bront- _tay_ ," Lavender corrected. "These are all Hermione's. She had a load of muggle books - _piles_ of them - littering our dorm. I was always tripping over them." Lavender's voice was sad rather than irritated. Taking Jane Eyre from Seamus, she continued. "She lent this to me in fifth year. Said I'd like it - that it was 'dramatic and romantic. Like you, Lavender'. I never got around to reading it."

"But where are we going to hide them?" Ginny asked.

"The room of requirement, of course," Neville stated matter-of-factly. "We're going there tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yep. The Carrows probably aren't going to waste much time. We need to hide this stuff as soon as possible."

Ginny thought for a moment. She couldn't argue with Neville's logic. "Okay." But as Ginny moved to start helping, Neville pulled her aside.

In earshot of Lavender, Seamus and Parvati who all stopped to listen, he said, "Ginny, we've been thinking. The DA. After tonight, surely we need to reform it?"

"The DA?" Ginny asked hesitantly. It had crossed her mind, of course it had. And part of her - the part that burned with injustice, with outrage at what was happening inside and outside of Hogwarts - desperately wanted to do something, _anything_ , and the DA was as good as anything. But her mother's voice from yesterday was still raw: re-forming the DA would mean breaking the promise she had made.

"I don't know, Neville, especially after tonight. Rebelling against Umbridge was one thing, but there's _Death Eaters_ running the school now."

"All the more reason, surely?" Neville queried, confusion on his face.

Ginny shook her head. "I just think… it could be too dangerous…"

"You're Ginny-fucking-Weasley, aren't you?' Lavender hissed loudly. 'The seventh child of a seventh child? The girlfriend of the Boy-Who-Lived? And you're saying you're going to sit back and let them _devastate_ this school?'

Ginny was taken aback. She'd never heard Lavender talk so passionately about anything, except school gossip or her Yule Ball outfit. But she supposed this year, as everyone was saying, was different.

"Lavender, stop being such a drama queen," Ginny retorted, more scornfully than she intended, and immediately felt guilty at the look of hurt that flickered across Lavender's face. "Well. You could still reform it together?" She continued hopefully, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions that were stirring in her.

There was a silence as the other four stared at her.

"We can't do it without you. We need you." Neville insisted, as if it were obvious.

And it was too much for Ginny. She couldn't stand looking at their faces anymore - at the confusion, the expectation, and worst of all the bloody betrayal - and so she shoved past them, aware she had pushed Lavender a bit too hard so that Hermione's books, which Lavender had just finished picking up from the floor, tumbled from her grasp again. She heard Lavender swear, but she didn't turn back as she marched up to her dorm to see if any muggle artefacts of her father's had managed to make their way into her trunk.

* * *

 _Ginny was in the main courtyard again, a fresh pile of wood stacked in the middle. However, surrounding it this time was her family. Her mother was stooped over looking defeated and broken, the arms of her father propping her up and her wracking sobs piercing the otherwise quiet of the yard. Ginny looked more closely at the soon-to-be bonfire and realised there was a coffin gracefully balanced on a platform atop it. Was this some sort of cremation, Ginny thought, her heart starting to pound. But then, oh Merlin, who was dead?_  
 _  
She looked around again, more carefully this time. Counting all her brothers, her heart slowed slightly as she confirmed that yes, all six were there. But fuck, then, was it Harry? She wished desperately that it wasn't Harry, and as she thought it, he seemed to appear there too; but she froze as she saw the look on his face._

 _It was lost and haunted, and behind the bright green his eyes looked dead and glassy._

 _But he was very much alive. Thank Merlin he was alive! And Hermione - yes, to Ginny's relief - was there too; tears streaming down her face, crying quietly._

 _So Ginny moved towards the open coffin on the pyre, her heart stilling as she looked over into it._

 _Into her own face, as pale as the moon and as still as death._

* * *

A/N: Your thoughts and reviews are cherished and treasured.


	6. Ch 6 Curiousity (Ginny)

**Ch. 6 Curiosity**

 _'"Yeah, size is no real guarantee of power," said George. "Look at Ginny."_

\- Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

 **Ginny **

But no, _Ginny thought. That didn't make any sense - how could she be dead? She was there, she was okay, she was_ alive _. There must be some misunderstanding. She turned to her mother._

 _"Mum! Mum, it's okay! I'm here; I'm fine!" She exclaimed, but her mother was looking through her, unseeing._

 _"She promised me. She promised me she'd keep herself safe!" Her mother lamented._

 _"Mum! I am - I have! I'm here; I'm fine!" Ginny repeated desperately._

 _But her mother still couldn't see her so Ginny turned to her brothers - calling their names with her face inches from theirs - yet they also stared through her, no hint of recognition in their eyes; only sorrow and grief. And so she rounded on Harry._

 _"Why was she so stupid? So reckless?" He was murmuring, shaking his head._

 _"But Harry…" Ginny said quietly, pleadingly, as he also looked through her._

 _"She promised, Arthur! She… promised… me." Her mother was repeating through a new round of wracking sobs._

 _And Ginny was running then, frantically, to each one: calling and shouting in their faces, but none of them responded. She was invisible to all of them._

 _Then, bizarrely, Nearly Headless Nick floated in to the courtyard._

 _"Shouldn't you be in lessons?" He said, and Ginny was about to snap that that was a ridiculous thing to say considering the circumstances, when Nearly Headless Nick rushed towards her and she felt that awful ice-cold wetness and -_

\- she woke with a jolt in her own bed in Gryffindor Tower, sweating and breathing heavily with her sheets wrapped awkwardly round her limbs. Nearly Headless Nick was drifting around the dorm.

"Do you know, dear girl, I don't normally haunt the girls' dormitories? But I couldn't help but notice that it is eight-fifty on a Monday morning and _you_ have a class at nine o'clock precisely. I thought you may appreciate it if I woke you up to prevent lateness on your first day.'

Ginny swore to herself and mumbled her thanks to Nearly Headless Nick, trying to shake of the images from her dream - or rather, nightmare. Their trip to the Room of Requirement the night before had been successful and - thankfully - uneventful. They had managed to dodge the members of the I.S. that had been on duty patrolling the halls. Ginny was sure Theodore Nott had seen them at one point as they'd rounded a corner and he'd been walking towards them, several metres down the corridor. Instead he'd halted, looking straight at them before he turned away and walked left down some stairs. Maybe his eyesight wasn't particularly good, or their disillusionment charms were better than Ginny had thought… or possibly both. Either way, they had made a clean getaway.

Fortunately they'd had no other run-ins with the I.S, but it had meant that Ginny hadn't got to bed until late and then she had had trouble falling asleep, her mind racing with thoughts of her first weekend at Hogwarts.

Ginny rose quickly from her bed, discarding a note written by one of her dorm mates - ' _We tried to wake you but you pushed us away and said you needed to sleep more. We thought you probably had a free period first thing?'_ \- and fumbled around getting ready. Then she sped up as, with a wave of apprehension, she realised that not only was this the first day of term, but Ginny's first lesson was Muggle Studies with Alecto Carrow.

As Ginny ran through the empty corridors, her red hair flying behind her, Snape's voice boomed out again, loud and bodiless through the halls.

 _"All students who refused to take part in the Purification Ceremony must report for detention after lessons on Friday afternoon in the Great Hall. We know who those student are, and they are listed as follows in alphabetical order: Hannah Abbott. Susan Bones. Terry Boot…"_

Snape was still listing students as Ginny swept round the corner into the Muggle Studies classroom, just as her own name was announced: _Ginevra Weasley._ The room was full of quietly chattering students, but to her immense relief she couldn't see Alecto, and it seemed that the class hadn't started yet. Ginny made her way to the only free seat, next to Hannah Abbott. She knew Hannah to speak to - she had been part of D.A. after all - but had never known her well.

"Hey Hannah." Ginny greeted as she sat down.

"Hi." Hannah gave her a friendly smile.

"How come you're in this class? You were in Har- " Ginny had to stop herself from saying his name, "- the year above, right?"

Hannah's smile faded and her expression became unreadable."I missed a lot of school last year… Professor Sprout thought it best I repeat the year."

"Oh - yeah. Of course." Ginny said awkwardly, remembering too late that Hannah had been taken out of school last year after her mother had died… one of the ever increasing victims of the Death Eaters. "I'm sorry about your mum."

Hannah gave her a strained smile and a quick nod.

"How's your shoulder?" Ginny asked, recalling the stunning curse Hannah had taken at the book burning and thinking changing the subject would be a good idea. Hannah grinned, at ease again, and shrugged.

"Fine. I hardly felt it. That book burning was- "

"Silence!" Ginny wasn't able to learn what Hannah thought the book burning was because Alecto Carrow had just stormed into the room, and was striding down the aisle to the front of the classroom.

Alecto started introducing the class, saying their teaching so far had been 'inadequate at best, completely inaccurate at worst', and how they were going to 'start from scratch'. Ginny, with a sinking feeling but ultimately unsurprised, realised they were going to be subjected to an extremely biased, puritanical, bigoted view of muggles and their relationship with Magical kind. Alecto was about ten minutes into her lecture when Hannah raised her hand, causing her to halt mid-diatribe.

"Yes?" Alecto snapped, clearly irritated at being interrupted.

"I was just wondering where Professor Burbage is?" Hannah asked, her voice and face full of innocent curiosity. There was a murmuring throughout the classroom and a flash of anger crossed Alecto's face.

"Burbage was not thought fit to teach this class. She had some very disturbing and inaccurate views on muggles. Now as I was saying, we will be examining blood status in detail- "

Alecto had stopped again because Hannah had raised her hand a second time.

"What now?" Alecto spat out the words this time.

"So, where is she, Professor Carrow?" Again, Hannah's voice was light and polite but Ginny could see the hand she hadn't raised was shaking slightly under the table.

Ginny looked askance at Hannah. She must have known from Alecto's first response that, wherever Professor Burbage was, Alecto wasn't going to share it with them. Which meant that Hannah was asking questions for the sake of it - to make a point. Instead of sitting silently as the Carrows implemented their pureblood ideology, Hannah was demonstrating something that seemed small but was vitally important: curiosity.

"That is none of your concern, child, and it is not relevant now. We have a lot to get through this class and I would be thankful for less interruptions. Where was I? We will learn how mudbloods - " Ginny cringed at the casual use of the word and some of her classmates shifted uncomfortably in their seats, " - steal their magic. Hence as well as being thieves, they are inferior magically. Although to call them true magicians would, of course, be inaccurate- "

Alecto paused again, raising her eyes towards the back of the room. Ginny turned.

Luna's hand was up in the air now.

"Yes?"

"Professor Carrow, I'm a bit confused. For the last six years the top student in the year above was muggle-born." Luna stated serenely. Ginny held her breath.

"Who was that?" Alecto said, spitting out every word.

"Hermione Granger, of course. Some say she's the brightest witch of her age." Luna said lightly.

This time the murmur through the class was louder. Ginny felt such a rush of affection for Luna that she had to hold herself back from applauding or running to her and hugging her. Alecto was scowling, her lips pursed. Her anger was obvious now.

"Hermione Granger is a known fugitive, no doubt running from the Ministry because she stole her magic, cheated her way through school, and now can't face the consequences!"

A well of conflicting emotions swirled in Ginny: burning anger at the narrative she was hearing about Hermione - her brilliant, talented friend - and the twitching urge to defend her. But she also remembered her dream from the night before - her own body stiff and dead in that coffin, her mother's broken, wracking sobs - and the words she'd spoken on platform Nine and Three Quarters: I promise...

But what harm could a question do? And so Ginny raised her hand this time, setting her face in a neutral expression.

"What?" Alecto snapped at Ginny.

"Professor Alecto, how can someone steal magic?"

Alecto's face seemed to relax at this seemingly unchallenging question, and she proceeded to give what, to Ginny, sounded like a very tenuous answer. It was one that Ginny had heard before, when her parents and their friends had critiqued elitist pureblood beliefs during nights around the fireplace at the Burrow. Which meant that Ginny had heard the argument against this theory too. She raised her hand a second time.

"If that's the case," She said when Alecto called on her with mounting frustration. "How do we know that any witch or wizard, half-blood and pure-blood, haven't stolen their magic?"

Alecto's mouth dropped open then closed again, reminding Ginny of a fish. A deadly silence descended over the classroom.

"Half-bloods and pure-bloods do not need to steal their magic! The magic is in their blood! _What_ a ridiculous question," Alecto paused and took a deep breath. Then, her words slow and deliberate, she asked: "What is your name?"

"Weasley. Ginny Weasley." Ginny said loud and unapologetically, remembering Lavender's words of the night before: Ginny-fucking-Weasley.

"Weasley. Yes." Alecto said thoughtfully, and Ginny knew she was treading precariously close to what her mother feared: she'd stuck her neck out, and she'd made herself noticeable.

Then Alecto's face broke into a scowl again and she suddenly raised her wand, making a sweeping gesture around the classroom.

"Silencio!" She cried.

Ginny felt an invisible force stick her lips together like glue and she knew that if she, or anyone else in the classroom, attempted to part them, they wouldn't be able to. After that, the only voice that was heard for the rest of the lesson was Alecto's, but there had been a shift in the classroom that had started with Hannah's initial question.

Although it was small and short lasting, in their questioning they had demonstrated that they were _not_ prepared to passively absorb the hate that Alecto preached.

As they left Muggle Studies together, Hannah pulled Ginny aside into an empty classroom.

"Ernie and Susan and I," Hannah whispered. "We've been wondering. The D.A. Is it reforming?"

Ginny felt her insides tighten again at the expectant look on Hannah's face. Why was everyone asking her, for Merlin's sake? She didn't have rights to the D.A.

"I - I don't know Hannah. Maybe you should ask Neville?"

"But if it's going to reform, you're going to be part of it, right?"

Ginny looked at Hannah, wondering fleetingly why the Death Eaters had targeted her mother, wondering if Hannah had ever made a promise to her mother that she'd found hard to keep. Without meaning to, Ginny found herself explaining to Hannah about her mother's Boggart and the promise she'd made at Kings Cross station. Hannah listened, without interruption, understanding evident in her eyes. When Ginny finished, Hannah nodded thoughtfully.

"Everything's so messed up," She murmured, as if talking to herself. "I'll talk to Neville about the D.A." Ginny smiled in appreciation as they both went to exit the classroom, but before Hannah went to open the door, she hesitated and turned back to Ginny.

"Ginny - the thing daughters have with their mothers - I think… I think it's something people need to cherish and protect, and never let slip through their fingers." And with tears in her eyes, Hannah turned and left the classroom.

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A/N: Your thoughts and reviews are cherished and treasured.


	7. Ch 7 Curiousity (Theo)

**Ch. 7 Curiosity**

 _'"Curiosity is not a sin... But we should exercise caution with our curiosity... yes, indeed."'_

― Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

 **Theo**

After the book burning, Theo had gone to his dorm and quietly checked his timetable, at first not admitting to himself why, scanning the classes he'd share with Gryffindors: Muggle Studies, Dark Arts, Charms and Potions. The first two were compulsory so she'd be in those. He wondered if she'd be taking the latter two...what lessons did she like?...was she any good at them?...And so the questions came unbidden into his conscious - about her, her passions, even what she was doing at that moment for fucks sake. Questions that he tried to shake off, but which over the coming days became so relentless that he just gave into them, letting them whirl around his mind, molding into fantasies…

And so he scanned the room for her when he entered those classes - she was doing Charms but not Potions - and made sure he sat near her, but not too near. He subtly watched her, studied the back of her head when he sat behind her in Charms, the way the waves of her hair slid softly over each other as she leant in to whisper to her friend.

Her smile - Merlin, that was disarming the first time he'd seen it up close - the way it opened up her whole face, humour dancing in her eyes. It was like she was giving a gift to the person she was beaming at, enfolding them into some special place of warmth and belonging. Not that she ever smiled at him of course. He found himself envying her friend, the Brown girl, who those grins were mainly directed at.

And he watched her when she was practicing spells - how she gave her wand the tiniest of glances before casting. She needed to watch out for that, he noted. That could get her into trouble.

Her scent, of course, was intoxicating.

Theo had always had an unnaturally strong, acute sense of smell. And hearing too, although less so. He picked up on the subtleties of a person's scent, which could reach him from many metres away, something that had become apparent to his parents by the time he was six or seven. It had taken him a while to realise that not everyone could tell people apart from their scent alone or hear what people were saying from the other end of a crowded dining room table. His parents had told him to ignore these experiences like he had to ignore his emotions, to not speak of them. They made it clear that they were something that needed to be kept a secret, something shameful. So, not understanding why he was burdened - or gifted, depending on how you looked at it - with such senses, he had, for many years, remained silent about it.

But that hadn't stopped it.

Sometimes it was useful - especially with potions. He could smell the subtle differences in strength between amounts of ingredients to a degree weighing scales couldn't. And when a potion was getting to just the right amount of brewing - not too much and not too little. These...skills had helped him excel in the subject. Sometimes it could be just, well, interesting, like when he knew Pansy was cheating on Draco with Blaise for those few months in sixth year because Theo could smell Blaise on her, when she was close enough - when she sat near him in the common room or walked next to him in the halls.

But other times it was a burden. Like during fifth year when he'd had to sit in classrooms full of teenagers with increasing amounts of hormones and pheromones coursing through them. It was like an unrelenting assault on his senses, like having a handful of rogue bludgers collide into him over and over again. The girls' scent had often made his body respond in ways that weren't entirely convenient when he was trying to concentrate on passing his OWLs. And the boys' just made him agitated, aggressive, triggering irrational feral urges of wanting to hit out. Even to _bite_. Fortunately, that was around the same time he'd found out the reasons he'd been bestowed with such unnatural senses. He'd managed to confide in Snape then, who'd helped him with a sensory suppressant potion he could take on the bad days.

But he didn't think he'd _ever_ want to suppress her scent. It was mostly floral - jasmine being the most dominant, with a bit of lavender too - combined with the more subtle sweetness of something like pumpkin juice...

With growing annoyance at himself, he found himself scavenging any information he could get about her, which was pretty hard seeing as a Nott in wartime couldn't be seen to be interested in a blood traitor Gryffindor. He found out she was also taking Herbology and Divination (Divination - _really_?), that she was in the school choir, that she was a pure-blood, which was a small consolation.

But then he'd learnt who her close friends were and what he'd suspected was confirmed: she was one of Potter's inner circle - one of those who'd been in that bloody Potter fan club in their fifth year. What his father and fellow Slytherins would consider to be the worst kind of blood traitor.

He wondered if he was under a love potion or some other love spell, but he knew potions well enough to be sure it wasn't that, and anyway, why in Merlin's name would _she_ want to bewitch _him_? As far as Theo could tell, she barely knew he existed, which was fine, which was as it should be.

But he did wonder if she was part Veela, _hoped_ she was part Veela because it would explain, it would help _justify,_ the crazy turn his thoughts had taken.

He tried to shake all of this off, tried to come to his senses - _she's the enemy, she's off limits_ \- he chanted to himself.

But he couldn't. He just couldn't.

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A/N: Your thoughts and reviews are cherished and treasured.


	8. Ch 8 Ginny's Turmoil

**Ch. 8 Ginny's Turmoil**

 _"Well if I were You-Know-Who, I'd want you to feel cut off from everyone else; because if it's just you alone, you're not as much of a threat."'_

\- Luna to Harry, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix .

 **Ginny**

It was Wednesday afternoon during the first week of term. Ginny had had a free period last thing and so she'd retreated to the window seat in the Gryffindor common room. She didn't feel very social but didn't want to be alone either so the window seat, with the curtains drawn, closing out the common room but leaving the views of the grounds open to her, seemed a good compromise. She could hear but not be seen.

The volume of chatter went up as the seventh years came back from their lessons and seated themselves about the room. Ginny recognised their voices as they discussed their Dark Arts lesson.

"Amycus makes Umbridge look like Mary Poppins," Seamus was saying begrudgingly. 'We need Fred and George Weasley here to fuck with them like they did with her."

"I miss the Weasley twins." Ginny heard Parvati say regretfully.

"Speaking of Weasleys, what the hell is up with Ginny?" That was Lavender. Ginny tensed at the sound of her own name. "I know things suck at the moment but she's so prickly and snappy. A sulky Ginny Weasley is _not_ fun."

Ginny had to admit that she'd been irritable and short-tempered since the start of school but she still found it difficult to hear Lavender's words.

"It must be hard for her-"

"It's hard for all of us." Lavender interrupted Neville.

"It's true," Parvati chipped in. "She's worse than Hermione at exam time! I feel like I need to walk on eggshells all the time."

"Her boyfriend and brother are Merlin-knows where-" Neville persisted. "I mean, her brother is ill, and her boyfriend Merlin-knows where. And she was close to Hermione, who's undesirable number two, only after Harry. She's always had her brothers here at Hogwarts and now they're all gone. And it's likely her parents are being watched by the ministry. I'm guessing she wants to do something but doesn't know what, because she doesn't want to put any more people she loves in danger. She probably doesn't know whether to scream, cry, or bat-bogey-hex the Carrows the next time she sees them."

There was a silence. Ginny was impressed and touched by Neville's intuition, as well as the fact he'd defended her. He'd managed to sum up exactly what was going on in her mind more than she could herself.

"That does sound awful," She heard Seamus concede. "Still. Does she need to be so _snappy_ all the time?"

"Just try and be patient. We need to stick together, we can't fight amongst ourselves."

"Tell her that." That was Lavender again.

"I know, she isn't making things easy but-"

And Ginny instantly tensed again, anger starting to bubble up in her. Despite what he'd said a moment ago, it seemed that even Neville thought she was jeopardising the peace and unity of Gryffindor House. She suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to get out of the common room. She rose hastily and clumsily from her seat, ignoring the surprised looks from the four Gryffindors she'd been eavesdropping on and stormed through the room to the portrait hole. Ginny heard Neville call her name just as the Fat Lady swung shut behind her.

She sped down the stairs of Gryffindor Tower and through the corridors. She didn't know where she was going. She thought briefly of flying again, but rain was coming down in sheets and she hadn't stopped to get her coat.

Neville was right: she did feel a constant urge to do something, _anything_ , but her mother's voice was continually in her head… _promise me you won't do anything reckless…that you'll do everything you can to not get in trouble this term…to keep yourself safe_ …and the only thing she felt left to do was scream or cry. But she didn't want to give in to screams or tears either, because she was Ginny-fucking-Weasley and she didn't scream needlessly or cry pointlessly…it just wasn't what she did.

She found herself on the east side of the castle, remembering from her days of dating Michael that this was where Ravenclaw Tower was, and she thought suddenly of Luna. Thinking of her friend's tranquil manner and grey-blue eyes calmed her somewhat and she found herself climbing the stairs to the Ravenclaw common room. When she reached the door, the eagle knocker raised its head, stretching and fluttering it's wings.

"What is always ahead of you but never behind?" It asked in a low, sober voice. This additional barrier to Ginny's current goal was enough to set off her irritation again.

"I don't fucking know!" Ginny snapped. "I just want to see if my friend's in!"

"Then knock on me. There is no need for profanities." The eagle said indignantly.

Ginny knocked. After a few moments, the door opened a few inches and Michael's head poked round it. He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Hi Ginny." He said pleasantly.

"Hi. Is Luna about?"

"I'll check." Michael said with a smile and closed the door without letting Ginny in. Ginny wasn't offended by this. It was unusual and generally frowned upon for students to visit the common rooms of other houses; one of the many unspoken and unwritten rules of social survival at Hogwarts. Hence why Ginny, like most Hogwarts students, had never been in any common room except her own. After a moment, the door was opened again more widely this time, by Luna.

"Oh. Hi Ginny." Luna beamed and then her smile quickly dissipated, to be replaced by a look of concern. "You're upset." She stated matter-of-factly.

Although it was sometimes unnerving, Ginny appreciated Luna's sharp perceptiveness and uninhibited tendency to say whatever she was thinking.

"Yeah. I wondered if we could talk?"

"Of course. Come in." Luna opened the door wider, to let Ginny through.

"Are you sure?" Ginny hesitated, aware this was one of many examples of Luna's lack of conformity to rules, spoken and unspoken.

"Yes. I'm completely sure."

So Ginny stepped through the door into a bright, airy and high ceilinged room. Through tall windows she could see a view of the mountains, although they were somewhat obscured by rainclouds and mist. Bookshelves lined every wall from floor to ceiling, although there were wide gaps where the shelves were empty, no doubt the result of the Carrows' raid earlier that week. It made the shelves look injured, violated - which, Ginny supposed, they had been - and the books that remained looking lost and lonely. In the centre of the room was a desk where strange brass and silver instruments, like the ones Dumbledore had had in his office, stood. A few students were sat at this desk, bent earnestly over books and parchment. Over to one side in an alcove stood a statue of a haughty looking women with a tiara-type thing on her head, and on the opposite side to this was a fireplace surrounded by an elegant sofa and armchairs.

A girl that Ginny recognised as Marietta Edgecombe was curled up on the sofa, a blue and silver shawl wrapped around her shoulders and a book open in her lap. She was looking with hostility at Ginny, and then turned her eyes to Luna.

"Luna, what's a Gryff doing in our common room?" Marietta said coldly.

"She a friend." Luna stated, as if this was explanation enough.

"It's okay. Maybe we can go somewhere else?" Ginny suggested to Luna.

"It's fine Marietta." Michael said authoritatively, a hint of warning in his tone. Marietta looked dispassionately from Michael to Ginny to Luna, shrugged and went back to her book. Ginny smiled gratefully at Michael.

"Let's sit over here." Luna said contentedly and led the way to a window seat, walking past curious glances and a few mutterings.

"I'm sorry Marietta wasn't very welcoming." Luna said when they were settled on the window seat. "People are strange sometimes."

Ginny looked at Luna, at her radish earnings and cork necklace, at her multi coloured jumper the texture of candy floss.

"Yes Luna," She agreed with an affectionate smile. 'People are strange.'

"What would you like to talk about?"

Ginny told Luna what she had overheard in the Gryffindor common room, and tried to explain as best as she could how she felt about it. When she had finished, Luna turned to look out the window as she spoke.

"You know, I can see why you and Harry are so close. You're similar in lots of ways."

Ginny flinched at the sound of Harry's name again - it still pained her to think about him.

"What's that got to do with this?" She asked guardedly.

"Well. In fifth year, when Harry was upset because people didn't believe him about you-know-who, he withdrew into himself, and pushed his friends away. I think he was cross that people didn't believe him, yes. But he also pushed those away that did. The problem with that is, some people might start to push you away too."

Ginny could imagine this. It sounded like Harry.

"And you think that's what I've been doing too?"

"I think you'd be better at answering that question than me. I think he thought he had to deal with everything by himself, and that letting people help him might cause more heartache in the long term. I told him that that's what You-Know-Who would probably want him to feel- like he was alone. Because if he's alone, he's not as much of a threat. But the Sorting Hat and Dumbledore had said that people had to _unite_ against the threats to the school."

Ginny looked out the window at the relentless drops of rain hitting the glass.

"And what did Harry say to that?"

"I don't think he said much at all."

"Oh. Well. Then what happened?"

Luna turned back to Ginny and smiled knowingly.

"Then Dumbledore's Army happened."

Ginny didn't quite know how to respond to that and so a comfortable silence elapsed between the two girls. It was Luna who spoke up again.

"You know how Padma quoted a muggle at the book burning?"

"Yes. I remember."

"She reads a lot of muggle history and philosophy. I remember another thing she quoted me once, which I've thought about a lot recently."

"What's that?"

"She said 'the only thing needed for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.'" Then Luna added, as an afterthought. "I think it applies to women too."

"Thanks Luna." Ginny said a little while later as Luna was showing her out of her common room.

"It was a pleasure. You can visit anytime." Luna said contentedly.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Ginny caught site of the eagle door-knocker flutter it's wings haughtily.

"Luna - the riddle I was asked - what's always in front of you but never behind? Do you know the answer?"

Luna paused, thinking.

"The future?" She suggested after a moment.

"Indeed!" Exclaimed the eagle smugly, before folding it's wings in and becoming still once more.

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A/N: Some Luna/Ravenclaw feeeels in this chapter! Let me know what you think...

Your thoughts and reviews are cherished and treasured.


	9. Ch 9 The Blood's Run Stale

**Ch. 9 The Blood's Run Stale**

_'"We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are."'_

― Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

 **Theo**

It was about ten minutes into his first seventh year Muggle Studies lesson when Theo realised there was going to be a class at Hogwarts more full of hippogriff-shit than Divination was.

He knew all the doctrine, the ideology, already of course. His father had had him memorising the 'indicators of pure-blood status' from when he was eight years old. And so he had, and absorbed it all without really questioning it. When he had got to Hogwarts and was sorted into Slytherin, he was then surrounded by children of other elite pure-blood families who had been taught the same - his prearranged tribe - who he'd already met at countless dinners and weddings and parties throughout his childhood. For many years it had seemed safer to not question it so he hadn't. Doubts had crept in but he'd discarded them because, well, did it really matter anyway? The pure-blood supremacists believed what they believed and others believed differently. And that was that.

But then Harry Potter had come back from that graveyard cradling Cedric Diggory's broken and dead body in his arms and shouting about the Dark Lord's return. He remembered how Goyle had turned to him and Draco as they sat in those stands overlooking the maze, excitement glinting in his eyes as he'd slowly whispered 'Shit's about to get real.'

Theo knew then that the tables were turning, that allegiances were shifting, that things were changing irrevocably.

He'd come back in his fifth year to most of the school believing Fudge's cover up but him and some others in Slytherin house knowing the truth. They knew because, like his father, some of their parents had been in that graveyard too, apparated there as soon as they had felt the Dark Lord's summons.

Theo knew then that these beliefs, this ideology, mattered now more than any other time in his life.

So he sifted through it all in his head. An advantage of having been made almost emotionally numb was that it could sometimes be easier to be objective, logical, deductive. It wasn't through any compassion for Muggles or Muggle-borns that he started to secretly reject the ideals he had grown up with. It was because, well, pureblood supremacist beliefs just didn't make _sense_.

The most talented, brightest witch in his year - the one that had beaten him to first place in potions for four years out of six - was a Muggle born. And the process of stealing magic was so full of holes it didn't stand up. If everyone could steal magic than surely everyone would be doing it and there would be no Muggles at all? In fact, the idea of stealing magic actually made magic less special, less unique, something that was transient and ubiquitous.

And those apparent pure-blood indicators: his five year old cousin, an apparent pure-blood of course, certainly hadn't shown any magical ability before he was three. He himself had been rubbish on a broom up until he was seven. Well, he still was. And if pure-bloods just kept breeding with pure-bloods they were bound to just bloody die out one day which was surely not the point.

The stupidity of it - the _illogic_ \- offended Theo.

And then Theo had snuck into his father's study and read through his grandfathers old notebooks and parchments that filled one of the bottom draws of his father's desk. His grandfather, Cantankerous, had written the compendium of the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight'. The more Theo absorbed himself in the papers, the more he could see the prejudice, the bias, with which his grandfather had conducted his 'research'. He could sense the desperateness with which Cantankorous had distorted the truth, bent it and molded it into shapes of intolerance and prejudice.

Theo was not sure how long he'd sat there, on the floor of his father's study, surrounded by the yellowing papers of his grandfather, as the beliefs he had grown to base his identity, his _life_ on, splintered and smashed and shattered in to pieces.

Then, not satisfied with part-truths, he had done his own research and had reached the pretty certain conclusion that more than one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families had Muggles in their family tree a few generations back or more. Including the Notts. Some of the families had been declaring that for years of course, like the Weasleys - unashamed of their Muggle ancestry.

And during this research, Theo made another discovery that shook him to his core. He'd understood why it had been kept a secret, but it was definitely there, in the papers and diaries he'd unearthed throughout his family home.

Only three generations back.

A werewolf.

His mother's grandfather. Making him a direct descendant.

He'd went on to learn that, although werewolves could have magical children not afflicted with lycanthropy, certain wolf-like traits could be passed down through the blood. And suddenly, the pieces slotted together: his powerful sense of smell, and less so hearing, made sense now. And the overwhelming, feral-like urges he had to fight - to hit, to kick and of course, sometimes to even _bite_. He had put those down to the fact he'd been forced to suppress all emotions except anger but he knew now that there was something more to it. Over the following months, Theo had paid more attention to the patterns of these urges and realised that, yes, they were always stronger during a full moon…

No wonder his parents wanted to keep it a secret - the remnants of wolf in his blood. Not being solely pure-blood was one thing, but something as sullied and dirty as a werewolf, a _half-breed_ , was something else entirely.

And Theo wondered whether the fear of his wolfblood, and what it could do, was the reason why his mother had asked him to make that Unbreakable Vow. The vow that had become his prison.

This had all taken place over his fifth year. He'd managed to accept it all over the course of that year, despite having no confidantes, except of course Snape. Theo had started off by repeatedly asking Snape about werewolves, wolfsbane and lycanthropic heritability, under the guise of academic interest. But Snape had observed him with that detached shrewdness he had and finally guessed at the truth. It had actually been a relief to unburden himself of his secret and so Theo hadn't denied it.

As far as Theo knew, Snape had never broken his confidence and had taught him how to brew a type of wolfsbane potion that suppressed the worst of the urges and took the edge of the scents when they became eye-wateringly overpowering. Like during the full moon or when a group of the older Slytherin girls' cycles synced together - _why_ did they do that for fucks sake, it wasn't like he didn't have enough to deal with. The few days a month when they were most fertile were the most...distracting for Theo.

It was this part of himself that made him feel like an animal, base and primal, and ashamed of the monster that lurked in his blood. But by talking to Snape and thinking logically and rationally about it all, Theo came to accept this part of himself. But accepting that had meant rejecting the beliefs and principles he'd grown up with.

Because the two were irreconcilable.

And another logical conclusion that Theo had had to make from all of this was that the concept of 'blood status' was total, utter hippogriff-shit. Which meant the persecution and the bigotry became, well, _distasteful_.

Problematic.

Wrong.

But of course, he couldn't say any of this. Because that would probably mean disownment by his family and ostracisation by his peers and to be put in the camp of 'blood traitor', which, now the Dark Lord was back, was really not a great place to be. He had wondered if he would be accepted by 'the other side', but after years at Hogwarts he'd seen and heard how prejudices went both ways and was convinced that he'd never be trusted by Potter and his followers. And then he'd be left with no one; belonging nowhere.

And so it was something else he had to squash down - biting his tongue, nodding and sometimes, with his stomach twisting in self-loathing, even joining in - whilst he sat in classes and walked the halls with people who voiced illogical beliefs and jinxed his schoolmates for being 'mudbloods'.

So when Alecto summarised their curriculum at the beginning of Theo's first Muggle Studies class, he switched his brain off to avoid getting too agitated. He knew it all anyway. And if it wasn't lies, it was stupid.

Stupid, stupid, fucking _stupid_.

* * *

 **A/N:** Music inspiration: 'When your dreams all fail / And the ones we hail / Are the worst of all / And the blood's run stale...' - Demons, Imagine Dragons

A/N: Your thoughts and reviews are cherished and treasured.


	10. Ch 10 Punishment

**Ch. 10 Punishment**

 _'"The thing about growing up with Fred and George," said Ginny thoughtfully, "is that you sort of start thinking anything's possible if you've got enough nerve."'_

― Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

 **Ginny**

 _"This is a reminder that all sixth and seventh years who refused to take part in the Purification Ceremony are to report for detention after classes on Friday in the Great Hall. Those students, in alphabetic order, are: Hannah Abbott. Susan Bones. Terry..._ "

Snape's message had repeatedly rang out throughout the castle during the first week of term. By now, the whole school probably knew by heart the names of those twenty or so students that had defied the Carrows at the book burning. There had been lots speculation amongst the students about what the detention would involve, and after the wildest of the ideas had been voiced, Ginny had decided it was best not to think about it.

But now she had no choice: it was Friday, classes had just finished and she was passing through the doors of the Great Hall for the detention. Pansy Parkinson was manning the door, her I.S. badge gleaming in the torchlight, disarming them all as they walked through.

The four long tables had been pushed to the side of the hall leaving the centre of the room empty. The two Carrows stood on the raised platform at the head of the hall and at the foot of the platform, a little way to either side, stood Malfoy and Nott, their wands grasped in their hands. Like little foot soldiers, Ginny thought scathingly. _Pathetic_.

Draco had that familiar sneer on his face; Theo's face was unreadable. Ginny looked around as more students filed in behind her and saw Goyle in the shadows at the back of the hall, his shoulders squared and wand ready by his side. And there was Snape, standing against the far wall, his face shrouded in the gloom and barely visible. When the students had all quietly shuffled into the hall, Pansy closed the heavy oak doors and silence fell.

Amycus took that as a cue to launch into a tirade about the dangers of Muggles, the importance of Purification - Ginny's stomach turned every time that word was mentioned - and how traitorous their actions had been at the book burning.

"But we understand that you are misguided due to the poor education you have had up to now. Nevertheless, it is important that you are punished and you learn from your mistakes. However, we are merciful. You will be given a second chance to turn towards what is right!" Ginny and her schoolmates stood silent as Amycus's words filled the dim hall. "When your name is called, you will each come to the front to receive your punishment...Parvati Patil!"

It seemed to take an age for Parvati to tentatively walk across the hall and up the wooden steps to where the Carrows stood. When she finally got there, Alecto turned to her.

"Hold out your wand hand, palm down." The Carrow sister demanded.

Parvati hesitated then shifted so she was standing a little straighter, looked Alecto directly in the face and held out her right hand. Alecto pointed her wand tip an inch or so above Parvati's hand and started to mumble an incantation. As a shimmer of red light emitted from her wand, Parvati let out a yelp like a startled animal and pulled her hand away. Alecto looked up.

"Hold. Out. Your. Hand." She said, her voice low and threatening.

Ginny could tell Parvati was trying hard to hide her fear as she did as she was told. Again, Alecto moved her wand an inch or so above Parvati's hand in slow, intricate movements, continuously murmuring an incantation as red wand-light swirling in the air. Parvati was gasping and whimpering, and her hand started to shake as blood began to appear on it. It initially seemed to form some kind of pattern but the bleeding was so profuse Ginny couldn't see what it was.

As Parvati's blood started to drip steadily on to the wooden floor of the platform, Ginny saw a movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see Nott take a few hesitant steps towards the platform, his arms stretched and tense, his hand grasping his wand so tightly Ginny thought she could see it shaking. A look of anger seemed to cross his face before it became unreadable again. He came to an abrupt stop at the foot of the platform and stood as still as stone, his gaze fixed on Parvati.

"Go." Alecto commanded Parvati when she finally lowered her wand.

Parvati stumbled down the wooden steps and managed to get to Lavender's outstretched arms before she let the tears spill freely from her eyes.

"Luna Lovegood!"

Luna walked up to the platform and Ginny watched as Alecto cast the same curse on Luna's left hand. When Luna walked back to the group of students, holding her bloodied hand in her uninjured one, her expression was grave but her eyes dry.

And so it continued, the students being called in turn, Alecto's wand evoking the dark magic that caused their hands to bleed out onto the wooden floor of the platform and then the flagstones of the hall. They had been forbidden to talk, so those that had suffered the punishment were not able to tell the others what it had been like. But Ginny started to feel less fearful. At least she knew what to expect from witnessing it, unlike Parvati. Was this all it was? Ginny thought. A cut to the hand? The Carrows were just copying Umbridge's detention; they couldn't even think of an original punishment. She could handle this.

"Ginerva Weasley!" And Ginny walked forward to take her turn.

The searing pain that pierced through her hand when Alecto began her incantation came as a shock to Ginny, causing her to gasp despite herself, and she quickly realised that this _wasn't_ just a cut to the hand after all. The pain coursed through her hand, up her arm, then her neck and radiated through her skull. It burned through her skin, her nerves and tissue, right into her bones. As with the others, the wound Alecto was making was deep and although it was forming lines, the blood flowed from the cuts so quickly, Ginny couldn't make out any meaningful shapes. After what seemed like hours, but Ginny knew could only have been a few minutes, Alecto stopped.

"Go." She was told.

Ginny walked away, trying to stop herself from shaking, and like other students before her, tried to stem the bleeding with her clothing. She continued to do so as the rest of her school mates took their turns on the platform. It was only when the final few students were going up that the flow of blood from Ginny's hand had slowed enough for her to finally see what had been cut into her skin.

And it wasn't shapes, but words.

Small but perfectly formed words that read: _Blood Traitor._

After the last of the students had been subjected to the cutting, Alecto turned to address them.

"You have each been marked to signify that you have betrayed your own kind! But as we have already said, we are merciful. The mark will fade when you show yourselves to be loyal to our world. Conversely, each time you show traitorous, anti-wizard sentiments, the mark will become more... _pronounced_...You may go now."

As Ginny and her fellow students turned to leave, she noticed small pools of blood on the floor of the Great Hall, where various students had been standing. Each individual pool was beginning to flow into each other, mixing and seeping into the cracks between the flagstones, forming minute rivers of red. The blood of a twenty or so witches and wizards, pure-bloods and half-bloods.

And it all looked the same. Ginny had no doubt that the blood of Muggle-borns would look just the same also.

Then words that various people had spoken to her in the last week ran through her mind: _Promise me...My youngest. My only daughter… you're brave, you're fierce, and I wouldn't want you any other way...Those who start with burning books end with burning people... You're Ginny fucking Weasley aren't you? The seventh child of a seventh child?! The girlfriend of the Boy-Who-Lived?!_ … _We can't do it without you. We need you…It's something people need to cherish and to protect and to never let slip through their fingers...Because if he's alone, he's not as much of a threat...the only thing needed for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing..._

And Ginny thought that, despite trying desperately to suppress her natural inclination to fight against the wrongs that were happening at Hogwarts, and despite the fact that she had _tried_ to keep her promise to her mother to keep as safe as possible, she had still ended up with a cursed cut on her hand. And really, was trying _not_ to comply with the Carrows regime the same as keeping safe, because Ginny wondered that actually, the DA could be the thing that kept them the safest. Not just because of the spells they would master, but in knowing they weren't alone.

Because there was strength in their unity.

And she knew she couldn't do it. She couldn't sleep obliviously between freshly washed sheets on soft beds whilst Dean and others only had forests and fields as their home. She couldn't contentedly eat three course meals in the Great Hall whilst innocent people were being put on trial and families ripped apart. She couldn't sit silently whilst the Carrows forced their pure-blood ideology on the school she loved when her boyfriend, best friend and brother were Merlin-knew where risking their lives to rid the world of the dark wizard that was the cause of it all.

So as she exited the Great Hall she grabbed Hannah and Luna and pulled them aside into an alcove as the other students shuffled past.

"Tell the others - tell them to have their galleons ready." She whispered urgently. She knew from their smiles of understanding that she didn't have to explain further.

That they knew - as Lavender would say - that Ginny-fucking-Weasley was _back_.

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A/N: Your thoughts and reviews are cherished and treasured.


	11. Ch 11 Power

**Ch. 11 Power**

 _"...perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who never really sought it"'_

― Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

 **Theo**

Theo had gone to the library whilst most students were at Quidditch try-outs because, well, _she_ was there. He'd managed to get a seat at the same table as her, several seats down and opposite from where she was sitting. Next to that Brown girl again. They were like Daphne and Pansy - inseparable. She was in his eye-line, but he didn't think she'd even noticed he was there, which suited him fine.

He was trying to concentrate on his book, _Healing Potions for Dark Curses,_ specifically the chapter on wounds. After that Merlin-awful excuse for disciplinary practice that had been 'The Cutting', as the students had started calling the blood traitor-wound punishment, Theo had gone to the library and started researching a possible counter-curse.

Students could now only officially access a very limited number of books that were immediately relevant to their classes. For anything else, they needed special permission from the Carrows or Snape. Which Theo had been able to get, of course, after a conversation with Snape about advancing his Potions studies. Handing his permission slip to Madam Pince, he'd seen the look of placation, maybe even fear, in her eyes as she noted who he was and hurried to get the book.

It wasn't the first time that Theo appreciated how seductive power could be.

He told himself he was researching because of academic interests only, because he hadn't known what dark magic Alecto had been using and Theo didn't like not knowing stuff. But in the few days since The Cutting, he'd admitted to himself that there was also something about Parvati's wound, red-raw and angry, which displeased him, which got under his skin. And those apparent 'blood traitors', their cuts just kept bleeding all the time - Terry Boot had accidentally got blood on Theo's parchment in Potions the other day - and that was just, well, _annoying_.

Someone abruptly dumped a load of books and parchment down on the table next to him. He looked up to see Daphne Greengrass smiling at him as she sat down. Theo didn't really want company right now - well, _ever_ at the moment - but if he was going to have to tolerate anyone, Daphne would probably the top of his list.

They had practically grown up together. Their parents were good friends and neighbours and so they'd spent long summer days playing in the small meadow that separated their homes, and dark winter evenings happily hurrying in and out of their mutual houses. Theo remembered the cold December evening over the Christmas holidays in their fourth year, when they were sat alone by Daphne's fireplace in her drawing room and, after she'd slipped a little too much firewhiskey into her hot chocolate, she'd confided to him that she "liked girls". His casual response - "I like girls too" - and their ensuing conversation had been enough for her to know that Theo unquestioningly accepted this part of her, and had bonded them further in mutual trust and friendship. In fact, she was probably the only true friend he had ever had. It was solely because of these memories that Theo could come anywhere near to conjuring a patronus - a spluttering of white light that disappeared almost as soon as it had burst from his wand.

As far as Theo was aware, Daphne hadn't told anyone else what she'd told him that night. Being born to one of _their_ kind of Sacred Twenty-Eight families meant your marriage had been decided by the time you'd got to Hogwarts, to ensure continuation of a pure bloodline. Being gay would interfere with that somewhat so he'd assumed Daphne had kept quiet. And _he_ certainly hadn't told anyone. Theo didn't want to betray Daphne, and he wasn't one to gossip anyway - he'd spent his years in Hogwarts hovering on the edges of friendship groups, quietly observing, tucking away useful information he gleaned about his peers into a pocket in his mind. Because knowledge meant power. He didn't intend to use that knowledge maliciously, and didn't have desires to gain power himself but he was aware it could be…useful in the future if needed for…self-preservation.

During their years at Hogwarts, Daphne had gradually become known for her sharp wit but cold exterior, meaning her nickname had morphed from 'Green' or 'Greenie' to 'Ice-Queen Green'. But Daphne had remained her old self when she was alone with Theo and so he still knew that the warm, playful Daphne he had known in his earlier years was still there if she let you break through the ice veneer.

But Theo wasn't sure what had happened to their friendship in more recent years. Daphne was increasingly inseparable from Pansy, someone that Theo viewed with covert (never overt, Merlin-forbid) dislike. Theo had observed that Pansy fervently believed in blood purity, and relished any opportunity to belittle or bully those weaker than her. He couldn't understand why Daphne had chosen her as her best friend. It was one of the reasons that he and Daphne had spent less time together, at Hogwarts and at home. Then conversations had become fewer, more restrained and more guarded as the Dark Lord had grown stronger and more powerful. It wasn't just Daphne of course - Theo knew his reserved nature also had a part to play in their growing distance.

"Where's Pansy?" Theo asked now, in a low voice.

"Watching try-outs." Daphne whispered back.

"You're not trying out yourself?" Daphne had been on the Quidditch team the previous two years. She was a gifted flyer.

"Not this year. Too much going on. Like this shitload of Transfiguration homework." Daphne gestured to the pile of books and parchment in front of her.

Theo nodded, secretly respecting McGonagall for not, like some other teachers, going easy on the Slytherin-children-of-Death- Eaters. Daphne's father had taken the mark a year ago. Although he didn't know how long McGonagall would be able to continue doing that, he thought regretfully.

"And what about you? You didn't fancy trying out either?" Daphne asked drily. She was making a rare in-joke - he had never been great on a broom. Theo scoffed in reply but didn't say anything. "Do you remember when I tried to give you flying lessons?" Daphne continued.

"I don't know why you were - are - so much better at it than me. It's not like I didn't try." Theo said good naturedly.

"And remember when you used to call me Phenie? Because when you started talking you couldn't pronounce my name properly?" Daphne said fondly.

"Yeah. I remember that. I couldn't say the 'D'."

Daphne smiled at him and Theo turned away, back to his book, because it was hard to keep looking at the sadness in her eyes.

"You've never stopped being like a brother to me, you know that?" Daphne said softly, and Theo turned back to her, finding it hard to form words in response. There was a silence before Daphne spoke again.

"You need to cut your hair." She murmured affectionately, reaching up and pushing a stray strand of his hair out of his eyes. He instinctively flinched away, looking back at his book, because that was just, well, _too much._ That place deep inside him where he squashed everything but anger was stirring and spitting, and he needed to keep that place under control. Daphne lowered her hand quickly, as if burnt, her smile fading. For the next few moments, Theo felt her studying him, felt her eyes boring into him as he tried to concentrate on the words in front of him.

"Theo," Daphne said so quietly he barely heard her. "What happened to us?"

And there was no short answer to that, because so much had happened: pureblood bigotry, pain, fear, distrust. But he wanted to give Daphne a response so he tried to sum it up, judging the words to be ambiguous enough to be safe.

"The Dark Lord happened." He mumbled to his book.

And then she said something so fast and quiet, and so _dangerous_ , he wasn't sure if he'd heard her properly; if it hadn't been for his powerful sense of hearing, he probably wouldn't have.

"The bastard."

They both froze, Daphne no doubt instantly regretting the word that had just slipped off her tongue. With that one word, and the bitterness with which Daphne had muttered it, she had handed Theo so much knowledge and with it, so much power. They both knew this instantly. They were, after all, the children of Death Eaters and had successfully navigated the shifting power dynamics and alliances of Slytherin house for six years.

"I mean-" Daphne started fearfully.

'"Phenie," Theo whispered, stopping her from saying anything else, not wanting her to dig herself a hole. He took her now shaking hand which lay on the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Those childhood memories of being with Daphne were one of the few sweet, unsullied things in his life and he didn't want to have this power over her. He couldn't stand the thought of her fearing him. "It's okay. Just - be more careful."

And that, Theo thought, is why emotions are dangerous.

Daphne smiled at him in relief and an unspoken understanding passed between them: that, at least to some degree, they both rejected - or even opposed - the ideology they were meant to represent.

Just then, probably because it was habit, Theo looked in Parvati's direction. His heart stilled as he found her eyes resting on his hand clasped in Daphne's, before they flitted up to meet his gaze. He adopted his practiced nonchalant expression as he stared back at her. After a moment, Parvati lowered her eyes, but not before Theo saw her dark cheeks ever so slightly colour. He found himself continuing to stare, intrigued by her blush, only to find her eyes dart back up to meet his. And he couldn't help but curl his lip in a half smile and give her a barely-there wink before she frowned at him in apparent disdain and looked away again.

It took a minute or so before his heart rate returned to normal.

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A/N: Your thoughts and reviews are cherished and treasured.


	12. Ch 12 Mind Control

**Ch. 12 Mind Control **

'"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"'

― Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

 **Ginny**

It was the second Thursday night of the new school year and Ginny and Neville were moving furtively through the castle. Seamus, Parvati and Lavender were following - they had thought it safer to travel in two groups. When they reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy on the seventh floor, Neville paced up and down three times, until a door formed in the opposite wall.

"Nice one." Ginny praised, grinning at Neville as they both crept through the door.

Ginny felt exhilarated - it was so good to be actually _doing_ something. Something useful, something significant. The room was almost exactly as Ginny remembered it from her fourth year, even down to the cushions scattering the floor for Stunning spells. A wave of nostalgia flooded through her as she remembered the joy when she had finally conjured a corporeal Patronus, her glowing pride when she had cast that impressive Reducto curse, and how all the while she had been trying to distract herself from her feelings for Harry and his obvious interest in Cho.

The memories were bitter sweet. She almost didn't recognise her fourth year self now, the fact she'd been so preoccupied with such childlike things; had been so innocent. Although the room hadn't changed, so much else had.

After a few minutes, their fellow Gryffindors arrived, followed by Hannah, Ernie and Susan and then, five or so minutes later, Luna, Michael, Terry and Anthony. Padma was still unconscious in the hospital wing, under the power of the _Debilis_ curse. They all sat themselves about the room, chatting quietly, and after a few minutes Ginny realised that they were probably waiting for someone to start the meeting. To lead. Neville, who seemed to be thinking the same thing, looked at Ginny, raising his eyebrows as if saying _what do we do now_? Ginny thought back to that first meeting at the Hog's Head and a thought occurred to her.

She stood up and coughed in the prim way that Umbridge used to when trying to get people's attention. The group stopped talking and looked at her, chuckling and grinning.

"That was uncanny Ginny." Michael said appreciatively. Ginny smiled.

"Thanks for coming guys. Are we - are we expecting anyone else?" She asked hopefully. She had thought that at least some of the other students who had been marked as 'blood traitors' would come.

Ernie looked awkward. "We did invite some other Puffs. But - people are scared."

"Same with the 'Claws." Terry added apologetically.

"I suppose things are scary now." Luna stated matter-of-factly.

"Yeah…but all the more reason to be here." Neville said to a murmuring of agreement.

"But, to what end?" Anthony asked, looking at Ginny. "I mean, what's happening out there? Do you know where Harry is?"

"No. But we know he's doing something important. And we need to be ready for when he comes back." Neville responded on Ginny's behalf.

"You think he's going to come back to Hogwarts?" Ernie asked.

"I think so, yes." Neville said. Ginny didn't know how Neville could be so sure of this - Harry had never mentioned this to her.

"And what happened at the Astronomy Tower?" Susan almost whispered, looking from Luna, to Neville and then to Ginny. "You guys were there right? We've heard so many rumours, it's hard to know what to believe. Did Snape kill Dumbledore or was it Draco Malfoy?"

Ginny faltered. She hadn't expected these questions, and she hoped they hadn't come here just to scavenge for gossip. She wanted to skip the talking and do some Defence, something practical _._ But then she realised that they all had a right to know the truth about what happened to their old headmaster. Why shouldn't they? So she looked at Neville and Luna, and remained quiet as they told the others what had happened at the Astronomy Tower, because she didn't have the energy to explain it.

"And the Carrows were there too." Neville finished.

"We did wonder…so they're definitely Death Eaters? They have the mark?" Anthony asked, with slight awe in his voice.

"I dodged about four killing curses Amycus sent my way that night. If I hadn't taken liquid luck I wouldn't be here." Ginny spoke for the first time in a while. There was silence then, so she made an effort to change the subject. "So, what do people want to learn? What d'you think we need to practice?"

"I'd like to learn how to do a Reducto like you Ginny." Susan said hopefully. Ginny grinned and nodded.

"Lavender's really good with an Impedimenta." Seamus suggested.

"Great." Neville said as Lavender blushed but looked pleased.

"I - I've been reading - and practicing healing charms. I sometimes help out Madam Pomfrey. Padma's good too, but seeing as she's, um, in hospital- I -if that would be useful?" Hannah said tentatively.

Ginny thought about the time she had been incapacitated by a broken ankle during the fight at the ministry and of how Madam Pomfrey had fixed it in a heartbeat. Why hadn't she thought of the importance of healing charms? "That would be really useful Hannah - if you could teach us some."

"D'you know anything that could stop this burning like fecking Fiendfyre?" Seamus said gravely, gesturing to his hand and the words _Blood Traitor_ cut into it. It was bleeding. As were everyone's, Ginny realised.

"Mine hurts all the time too. I don't so much mind the words. In fact, I'm proud of them," Lavender said, looking defiantly around the room, and Ginny, possibly for the first time ever, felt a rush of affection for her. "It's the pain that's starting to bother me."

Ginny's hand had hurt continuously too. There was an occasional sudden burning or stinging sensation but always a dull ache. How to reduce the pain was something that they had frequently discussed over the last week. Various spells and lotions had been tried, although their access to them, like books, was limited now. Nothing, apart from Murtlap essence, had helped soothe the wounds. And even that only took the edge off the pain slightly. Nevertheless, they had all taken to carrying around cloths soaked with it, stuffed up their shirt sleeves or in their pockets.

Some of them had gone to Madam Pomfrey, who had looked apologetic and fraught and said she thought that a special potion involving Essence of Dittany and powdered silver would be helpful but that the school's supply of both had run out. Ginny wondered if the Carrows had either stopped the supply getting to the students or had scared Madam Pomfrey from giving it to them. Or both. She felt a familiar rush of hatred for the Death Eater siblings and grimaced at another sudden jolt of burning pain in her hand.

"Have the Carrows made it so that it will hurt like this forever?" Michael Corner lamented.

"No, I don't think so." Luna spoke up. "Just for as long as we keep thinking Muggle-borns are equal to pure-bloods and for as long as we show disloyalty to You-Know-Who."

There was a pause as they all looked a Luna.

"So forever then." Ginny stated flatly.

"Well, remember what Amycus said at The Cutting?" Luna continued. "I think they've cursed the wound so that it gets worse if we do anything that opposes the Carrows or shows loyalty to The Order and those against You-Know-Who. Did you all feel a pain all the way up to your head when Alecto was cutting you?" - There was a murmuring of "yes's" - "I think she linked the wounds with our minds in some way. I've noticed mine stings more when I think fondly of my Dad and what he might be writing in the Quibbler," Luna looked down at her hand. "There. It just did it again." She said with satisfaction.

"Mine's the same when I think of my Gran." Neville reflected.

"And mine when I'm sitting in Muggle Studies thinking what a load of Hippogriff shit it is." Terry Boot said gravely.

"Mine's bad in Muggle Studies too," Admitted Parvati. "And Dark Arts. Like when I couldn't use the Killing Curse on that poor mouse."

Ginny had heard about that lesson. The seventh years had been given a mouse each and the instruction to use Avada Kedavra to kill it, with the advice 'you have to really _mean_ it' by Amycus. Parvati had half refused to do it, and half clearly hadn't really _meant_ it because she'd failed to do it. Luckily, it was the end of the lesson and Amycus must have been rushed or distracted because he sent her to Snape for her punishment, who'd given her a relatively lenient one - detention with Professor Slughorn next Friday evening.

"Yes, I think it actually bleeds when we're _doing_ something disloyal to You-Know-Who or his followers, and stings and burns when we're just _thinking_ things." Luna explained, eyeing their hands. "See, they're all bleeding now a bit."

There was a silence for a moment or so as people contemplated Luna's words, looking surreptitiously around at people's bleeding hands. Ginny realised how her mind was nearly always full of thoughts of Harry, or her family, or how much she despised the Carrows. No wonder it hurt all the time.

"I think I've subconsciously noticed that already." Lavender said. "So I've been finding that I'm trying _not_ to think too much about how much I hate the Carrows, and how I wish Harry and Ron and Hermione were back. And that seems to help a bit." Lavender had surprised Ginny again. She hadn't thought Lavender would genuinely miss their fellow Gryffindors. Particularly Hermione.

"I think that's exactly what they want to happen,' Luna said, and for a second time the group gave her bewildered looks. "Well..pain is a funny thing...we normally want to avoid it as much as possible...so if we think of something, or do something which causes our hand to hurt, and then we stop thinking about it, we get _rewarded_ with no pain. It's like our minds are being trained to _not_ think about anyone or do anything that opposes You-Know-Who and so the less we do those things, and the less we think about those things, the more faded and distant they become to us so that, eventually, over years and years, we might forget them entirely.'

There was another bemused silence.

"So it's like some really fucked up mind control?" Seamus eventually said, incredulous.

"I suppose so, yes." Luna said regretfully.

"That's... _sick."_ Ginny spat, disgusted.

"And quite advanced magic. I'm surprised Alecto was powerful enough to do it. She doesn't seem that bright really," Looking around at the group's grave faces, Luna added hopefully. "So I can't imagine it lasting a _long_ time...I wonder if she had help in learning the curse..."

"Snape." Neville suggested grimly.

There was a murmuring of agreement, as some of them looked miserably at their hands.

"So...if they see that our hands are bleeding, then they'll know we've been doing something...wrong." Terry said and Ginny's stomach churned at this thought.

"Is there any way to stop it? A counter curse or something?" She asked, knowing she was repeating a question that they had all asked at some point in the last week.

"Terry and I have tried looking in to that but it's hard when our access to books is so restricted now." Anthony said gloomily.

"So what do we do in the meantime?" Ernie asked.

"Keep on with the Murtlap cloths I guess." Neville said resignedly. Then he stood up abruptly and said loudly: "Come on, let's do some Defence!"

Ginny stood up too, grateful that Neville had changed the subject.

And so, for old time's sake, they started with 'Expelliarmus'…

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A/N: Your thoughts and reviews are cherished and treasured.


	13. Ch 13 Trapped

**Ch. 13 Trapped**

 _"The consequences of our actions are always so complicated, so diverse, that predicting the future is a very difficult business indeed."'_

― Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

 **Parvati**

It was nine o'clock on Friday night three weeks into the new school year and the corridors of Hogwarts were empty and still. Nearly all students had withdrawn to their common rooms; wandering the halls of the castle late in the evening, even before curfew, didn't feel safe this year. Parvati, though, was hurrying down the stairs to the basements for her detention with Professor Slughorn. For once, she wasn't rushing because she was late but because she'd always disliked the eerie and lonely feel of the corridors when they were empty of bustling students.

As she walked through the door to the potions classroom, she noticed that she wasn't the only one in detention that evening. There was another student there, leaning over a desk engrossed in cutting up potions ingredients. As she recognised Theodore Nott, the hopes she'd had for friendly company during her detention quickly diminished.

"Ah, Miss Patil." Slughorn exclaimed as she walked in, giving her that edgy, tense smile he often wore.

Theo's head sprung up at Slughorn's words, his knife slipping and cutting into his thumb. She heard him swear under his breath as he looked at her with a very brief flicker of surprise, and then something else - hostility? anger? - until his face returned to that usual coldness.

"Careful now young Theodore," Slughorn said jovially as he waved his wand over Theo's thumb, stilling the blood flow. "Yes, you have another student joining you for detention this evening."

Parvati looked at Theo, making her face as neutral as possible. Theo gave her a brief nod of acknowledgement before returning to his chopping. Slughorn then went through the instructions for the detention: preparing various ingredients, storing them in the appropriate jar or bottle and then in the correct place in one of the three storerooms that led off the classroom.

"And be careful of the storeroom doors. You will need to prop them open - a simple _patere portam_ should do it - because they will lock automatically if closed and, once locked, no spell or curse you can cast will get them open. At the instructions of the Headmaster, I've put very advanced protective charms on those locks, to avoid potions getting…mislaid...in these times you see…Right, so I'm sure you two can get on with this okay, I'll be back in a couple of hours." Then, with a nervous smile, the Potions Master bumbled out the room.

"He's just leaving us to it?" Parvati said incredulously once Slughorn had departed. Not just because a teacher wasn't staying to observe detention but because she was being left alone in a empty classroom with a Snake-son-of-a-Death-Eater. She subtly felt for her wand in her skirt pocket for reassurance.

"Celestial Warbeck's live on the Witching Hour tonight. Slughorn's a fan," Theo said dully without looking at her.

"Right," Parvati said, picking up a knife to start to chop up sopophorous beans. She was somewhat comforted by having a knife in her hand, but then remembered that Theo also had one in his.

They worked in silence for some minutes. Theo showed no interest in Parvati at all, which suited her fine. The task was boring, and annoying - the beans kept jumping from her grasp each time she went to pierce them with a knife - she'd much rather have been in the Gryffindor common room of course, but she knew it could have been much worse.

She occasionally looked over at Theo, who was always frowning down at the ingredients, as if constantly irritated by something. Despite herself, she found herself admiring the sharp angle of his jaw and the shine of his dark hair as it fell forward when he bent his head lower over his chopping. His I.S. badge gleamed in the torchlight and she wondered why he was in detention. Certain Slytherins, and he was no doubt one of them, had been able to do almost anything with impunity recently.

"It's easier if you crush those with the flat side of the blade." Was the only thing Theo said to her, in that same indifferent tone, during the first ten minutes of their detention. Parvati did as he suggested and found that it was, indeed, much easier to extract the juice from the sopophorous bean by crushing rather than chopping them.

When she'd finally finished and bottled the sopophorous juice, she went into one of the storerooms to put the bottles away. She was searching the shelves, having trouble finding the ingredient's correct place, when she heard Theo come in behind her. She briefly turned, but he'd gone straight to another shelf to place a jar there without looking at her.

It was then that it happened. A strong draft blew down the long basement corridor outside and into the classroom. Parvati could see it lift parchment off a table and felt the cold blast of it on her calves just before the door of the storeroom swung shut with a loud, heavy clunk. The locks moved into place with a series of clicks and whirrs and she sensed the magic of Slughorn's locking charms rippling over them. Parvati and Theo both froze, staring at the door.

Shit shit _shit_. She had forgotten to prop the door open.

"You didn't charm the door to stay open?" Theo's voice was strained, like he was desperately trying to keep his voice calm. Parvati wasn't sure if it was a statement or question - he must have sensed the rippling of those locking charms too.

"I - we - I forgot -"

"You stupid _bitch_!" Theo shouted angrily.

He rushed to the door, brandishing his wand and bent over the lock, starting to urgently murmur various incantations. Parvati waited, whilst sparks emanated from Theo's wand and, at one point, bits of wood even flew into the air following a mini explosion. Surely he must know that's all in vain, Parvati thought, hadn't he heard what Slughorn had said?

Then Theo appeared to abandon magic entirely and started banging on the door, yelling desperately for help like a mad man. But no one came - the room was in the basement and Parvati had seen how quiet the castle was this late in the evening.

And so Parvati stood, feeling sick to her stomach, as it sank in that she was trapped in a tiny room for the next two hours with a Slytherin - an _angry_ Slytherin - that had a Death Eater for a father.

* * *

A/N: Your thoughts and reviews are cherished and treasured.


	14. Ch 14 Rules

**Ch. 14 Rules**

 **Parvati**

Parvati's guard had already been up since Slughorn had left her alone with Theo, but his words - _stupid bitch_ \- and the anger with which he'd voiced them had put her completely on the defensive. After a few moments of futilely banging and yelling, Theo's shoulders slumped in apparent resignation. Still facing the door, with his back to Parvati, he appeared to take a few deeps breaths, composing himself, before turning around.

Right in to the tip of her wand.

The room was so small that even though she was standing against the opposite wall to Theo, when her arm was outstretched her wand tip was only inches from his chest. Theo looked nonchalantly at Parvati's face, down to her wand, then back up again. Then, unexpectedly, his mouth broke out into a wry grin. Parvati took the opportunity of his apparent casualness to cast.

" _Expelliarmis_!" She cried at the same time as Theo shouted:

 _"Protego_!"

He had been surprising quick with his protective charm and his wand stayed firmly in his hand, which he kept outstretched, pointing at her. They now both stood, barely two metres from each other, each of their wand tips inches from the others torso.

 _"Expelliarmus_?" Theo questioned scathingly. "Out of all the spells? You bloody Potter _groupies_."

Parvati felt a rush of anger at his words and her grip tightened round her wand. Theo must have noticed because his smile faded, although his face remained indifferent.

"What nifflers got into your knickers? Why the defensive spells?"

Parvati raised her eyebrows incredulously. Did he really need that spelling out?

"I'm a Gryffindor and _Harry Potter groupie,_ as you put it, locked in a confined space with a snake that has a Death Eater for a father!"

Something flickered momentarily in Theo's eyes, so quickly that Parvati couldn't read it. She wondered then, not for the first time that evening, whether he had followed his father's path and was in fact a Death Eater himself. Her eyes darted down to his left forearm, wondering if, were he were to roll up his shirt, she would see a mark of a skull with a snake curling from its mouth. She looked back up at Theo and saw that he'd seen where her gaze had drifted, and she had the uncanny knowledge that he knew what she'd been thinking.

"Okay. Look,"' he said, as if he was placating an over-excited child, which just riled Parvati even more. "As much as you may not think it, it really doesn't suit me right now to be found in here in an hour and a half's time with one or both of us dead or maimed and the potions stock destroyed. It'll really be more hassle than it's worth. But that will probably happen if you attempt to put into practice those spells you've been learning in that Harry Potter fan club you guys have going on."

Paravti's eyes narrowed at his mention of D.A. How much did he know? How much did _they_ know?

"So. I suggest we both discard our wands and try and pass the time civilly?" Theo continued as he slowly raised both his arms to head height, in a sign of surrender.

"Civilly?" Parvati scoffed.

"Yes."

Parvati wasn't quite sure why she trusted him then. Maybe it was the fact that he could have cast any spell except a shield charm - he could have disarmed her, immobilised her, stunned her - but he'd chosen to only protect himself. Maybe it was that his reasoning made sense - she didn't know much about Theo Nott, but she knew he excelled in most subjects, including DADA. If they duelled in this confined space, they were both likely to end up seriously hurt or worse. What choice did she have but to trust him? So she raised her arms, mirroring his gesture.

"On the count of three we drop our wands and don't pick them up again until that door opens." Theo said.

Parvati hesitated for a moment.

"Deal," she conceded.

"One…two…three."

They both opened their wand hands and the two pieces of magical wood clattered to the floor at the same time. There was a tense moment when it seemed they were both waiting to see what the other would do. Then Theo lowered his arms, relaxed his shoulders and turned away from her. He proceeded to idly pick up random bottles from the shelves and put them down again. He seemed restless, twitchy, but to have dismissed her presence completely.

Parvati stood in one corner, leaning against a shelf, trying to ignore him, which was impossible of course, she was in a tiny fucking cupboard with the guy. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, concentrating hard, thinking of Padma, but her twin's mind was still lost to unconsciousness across the castle in her hospital bed.

Theo turned, went to lean down and Parvati instantly tensed. She was still aware of where her wand was and how long it would take her to get to it.

"Relax," Theo said, an amused smile playing at his lips. "I'm just sitting down. May as well get settled. We're in here for the long haul. No thanks to you."' And he sat down, his back leaning against one of the shelves, his legs stretched out in front of him.

Parvati didn't say anything. It _had_ probably been her fault. As the first one in the cupboard she should have put an unclosing charm on the door. But she did that kind of thing all the time - she knew she wasn't good with small details, forgot them, got distracted easily - _flighty_ her Dad said- although he managed to say it so affectionately it sounded like a rare talent. She'd stopped beating herself up about it years ago.

She looked down at Theo on the floor. It did look more comfortable than awkwardly leaning against the shelves so she slid herself down to the floor too, mirroring his position. They were now sat diagonally from each other. The room was so small it was literally only big enough for them to both sit with their legs outstretched. Or even barely that, Parvati realised, as she had to make a special effort to make sure her legs didn't brush against him. Parvati noted again where both their wands were and was comforted a little by the fact she could probably get to hers quicker than he could get to his.

They sat not speaking and not making eye contact for a few minutes. Theo broke the silence.

"You know, you need to not look down at your wand."

She looked at him and was unexpectedly caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze - piercing blue eyes that met hers uncompromisingly.

"What?" she snapped. She hadn't been looking at her wand.

"Just before you cast a spell," he continued in that detached way he had of speaking. "You do this thing where you glance down at your wand for a split second, like you're checking it's still there or something. But it's enough. It's enough for the enemy to know you're about to cast. And it slows you down."

Parvati initially felt indignant. She hadn't asked for him to give her casting techniques - how bloody patronising. But then she thought more about what he'd said.

"That's how you cast that shield charm so quickly?"

"Yep."

"Right. Thanks for the tip," she said, not sure herself is she was being sarcastic or sincere.

He shrugged, looking away from her as if he couldn't care less about her wand technique. But why had he bought it up then? Merlin, he was irritating.

After a few more minutes of strained silence, Theo inexplicably started humming and singing quietly to himself. Parvati recognised a Seven Sirens song that happened to be one of her favourites. He actually had rather a lovely voice, but Parvati was finding herself getting even more irritated.

"Could you maybe not do that?" she snapped. "There's no way I'm going to be subjected to that for the next two hours or however long we're in here for."

Theo stopped singing but looked totally unabashed.

"Just trying to break the tension," he said casually. Merlin, didn't _anything_ bother him? But then Parvati remembered the anger that had burst from him when the door had locked in to place and she thought, yes, some things definitely did bother him. "So. If I can't entertain myself by singing, how're we gonna spend this time Patil?" He was looking at her again, with those amazingly bright blue eyes, a mocking smile hinting at his lips.

But his insults were still ringing in her ears.

"Maybe with you not speaking to me that would be a good start."

"Come on Patil." He seemed totally unperturbed by her acerbic tone. "I know you can't sit in here in silence for two hours, you'll go mad with boredom" - he was probably right but how did he know that? - "You got us into this mess, you suggest the entertainment. What d'you lions do in the Gryffindor common room to pass the time?"

She shrugged.

"The usual. Wizard's chess. Exploding snap," she thought of what was probably happening in the common room now, fuelled by the butterbeer that Seamus had sneaked in. "Truth or dare."

"Truth or dare? Okay, let's do it."

She looked at him, incredulous.

"You're not serious."

He sat up straighter and started scrabbling about on one of the lower shelves.

"This should make it more interesting...I'm sure I saw some earlier...yes!" He said and turned to Parvati, triumphantly brandishing a bottle with a clear, colourless liquid inside.

"Veritaserum?" she asked, bemused.

"Yep. We each take a few drops. Shouldn't make us go too crazy. Don't want you totally spilling your guts to me."

Truth or dare with Veritaserum wasn't new to Parvati. She had played many a game of it in the Gryffindor common room and also with the Bauxbatton students during the summers she spent in France. After a while, she'd got to learn certain techniques for being more in control of it and she could actually handle the game quite well.

"How exactly are we going to do the dare bit?" she asked.

Theo paused, apparently thinking.

"We have to do the dare when we're out of here, within a certain time frame. We promise to do it."

"Ha! Like I'd believe that!"

"I keep my oaths Patil." He said more quietly. Serious, piercing eyes continuing to bore in to her.

Parvati turned the suggestion around in her mind. Annoyingly, he was right - she may well go mad with boredom without something to occupy her. Although it was risky…but she was a Gryffindor through and through and nothing appealed if not a little risk taking. What harm could a game of truth or dare do? And her thoughts responded with some concerning answers.

"Okay. Okay. But! We promise not to ask questions or propose dares where the answer or deed would endanger ourselves, our family or our friends."

Theo nodded.

"Knowledge is power. Makes sense. Any other _rules_?" - mocking tone again - "I thought you Gryffs were meant to be fun..."

Parvati thought again. I vision came to her of the Slytherin common room and of Pansy and Daphne's wide eager eyes as Theo spilled everything she'd said to them.

"We don't tell anyone what we say, no matter what it is."

Theo's lips formed into a wry smile.

"What happens in the potions storeroom stays in the potions storeroom?"

"Yes," she said firmly, although she wondered again why on earth she should necessarily trust him. "We should shake on it." It was something she'd learnt from Dean.

"Isn't that what Muggles do?" Theo said in a disgusted tone, looking distastefully at her outstretched hand.

"Yes." Parvati said, unperturbed.

Theo let out an inpatient sigh and raised his arm to shake her hand. When his larger hand closed around Parvati's smaller one, his skin rough against hers, she startled at the odd tingling sensation she felt, a feeling that instantly rippled through her, causing her breath to catch in her throat. She pulled her hand away quickly, as if burnt, trying not to let her reaction show on her face.

"Okay, who starts?" Parvati said once they had both took a mouthful or so of Veritiserum, each looking closely at the other to check they had swallowed the same amount.

"Ladies first."

Parvati rolled his eyes at his apparent chivalry. What, she thought, was she doing, locked in a tiny room with a snake-son-of-a-Death-Eater playing this bloody game? But anyway.

"Truth or dare?" She began, trying to swallow the remains of the truth potion that lingered on her tongue.


	15. Ch15 Truth

**Ch. 15 Truth**

 **Parvati **

"Truth." Theo said, directing his gaze to the shelf opposite him.

Parvati thought. Nearly everything she was curious about regarding Theodore Nott was to do with his connection to the Death Eaters, to Voldemort and to any information she could gain that would help her side win the war that was brewing outside the castle walls. Possibly inside them too. But she couldn't ask about any of that and so tried to sweep those questions aside.

What would she want to ask Nott if Tom Riddle didn't exist or a war wasn't looming? She had wondered why he was in detention, but she thought that was a waste of a question - she could probably find that out on the Hogwarts rumour mill when she got out of this bloody room. _If_ she ever got out of this bloody room.

And then she remembered that day in the library when she'd looked up and seen Daphne Greengrass smiling at him, reaching up to brush his hair out his eyes and Theo clasp her hand in his. Parvati remembered her heart had sped up and she'd got an inexplicable desire to be in Daphne's place, to want to know how his hair felt against her fingers, to feel his hand wrapped round hers - which was just, well, bizarre and confusing, so she'd pushed that away. But her curiosity still lingered.

"What's with you and Ice-Queen-Green?" Parvati asked.

Theo smiled wryly again, probably at the trivial nature of the question. She knew she was living up to her reputation for a gossip, but with their rules Parvati didn't have much to work with.

 _"With_ me and Daphne? You need to clarify your question." The mocking tone again. Merlin, he was infuriating.

"Are you in a relationship? If so, how long have you been together? _Etcetera_." Parvati asked impatiently.

"That's more than one question. But no, we're not in a relationship. Unless you count friendship but I don't think you were referring to that kind of relationship,"' and then Theo's voice changed and for the first time Parvati heard sincerity in it. "Daphne's like a sister to me. We practically grew up together."

And the veritaserum did it's work as Theo, eyes still straight ahead on the shelves opposite him, with an edge of fondness to his voice, told her about how he and Daphne used to play in the fields outside their homes during the summer and shared firewhiskey-dosed hot chocolate on winter evenings. Parvati was surprised when she found herself thinking that it all sounded rather… _sweet_. And there was a feeling of relief at hearing they were nothing more than close friends, which again, was odd and confusing, so Parvati squashed that.

"So. My turn," Theo said when he'd finished. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

Theo looked at her thoughtfully, his eyes piercing and uncompromising. Parvati was noticing that something not altogether unpleasant rippled through her body when he looked at her like that.

"If you were sorted now, do you think you'll still go in to Gryffindor?"

"Of course," Parvati answered without hesitation. That was easy. She would normally leave things there but the veritaserum made thoughts flood from her mind, loosen her mouth, and run off her tongue before she could stop them. "I'm lion through and through. Don't know where else I'd go. I was really upset in first year when I didn't get sorted into Ravenclaw with Padma, but I know now there's no way I could have kept up in 'Claw and the hat said my spirit would "wilt in Hufflepuff", whatever that meant, and Slytherin well- " She stopped and shrugged as if that were obvious.

"Slytherin well what?"

Again, the words were out before she could stop them; it was as if she'd forgotten who she was speaking to.

"Well, it's the house of dark magic. They're only out for themselves. They let power and ambition come before loyalty and honour. Which is fundamentally selfish. Wrong."

Merlin, where had _that_ come from? Parvati thought. She hadn't meant to say all that. She'd sounded so… _sanctimonious_. She hadn't even realised she'd believed all that so strongly, but she supposed that's what had seeped in to her mind after six years of living in Gryffindor Tower.

She looked at Theo, apprehensive about seeing his reaction. He was frowning at her, that glint of anger in his eyes again.

"You think every Slytherin is power-hungry, dark and selfish to the core?" He asked bitterly.

"I-I guess so - I'm not sure." And it was the truth, because literally in the last few moments, in the recognition of her previous prejudice, her thoughts had shifted, leaving doubts were they'd previously been conviction.

He raised his eyebrows at her apparent uncertainty, the look of anger dissipating and being replaced by one of resignation. He looked away.

"You know Daphne was a hatstall." He said quietly after a moment.

'What?' Parvati couldn't remember there being any hatstalls at their year of sorting, but then she had been so nervous about her own sorting, then so upset at being separated from Padma, she probably wouldn't have noticed, or remembered. "Between Slytherin and where?"

Theo looked back at her, a small amused smile on his face. "Gryffindor."

"What?!"

"Yep." Theo said indifferently, stretching his arms above his head. Parvati couldn't help but notice the definition of his muscles through his shirt, which led her to look down at his chest, and again, she felt sensations in her body that she really, really wished would go away. "Your turn," Theo said as he lowered his arms.

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"If you were sorted now, do you think you'd still go into Slytherin?" She echoed his question back at him because, well, she'd got curious about it in the last few minutes. He frowned slightly, his eyes becoming unreadable again.

"I don't know. Probably. But I don't know if I'd want to. The hat said I'd fit in Ravenclaw too..." He shrugged. "But then my family would probably disown me if I weren't in Slytherin."

"Why would you not want to go into Slytherin?"

Her pursed his lip, as if biting back the answer, closing off the veritiserum.

"That's more than your question quota," He said warningly. "Truth or dare Patil?"

And so they continued with the game, occasionally diverging off into conversation. Parvati learnt that, although Theo was a high achiever in all his subject - particularly Potions - he was a rubbish flyer. He scorned her taking Divination, saying it was 'illogical' and 'woolly', reminding Parvati nostalgically of Hermione. Parvati admitted that he probably had a point but Lavender wouldn't have forgiven her if she hadn't carried it on to N.E.W.T level with her.

He learnt she still secretly loved chocolate frogs, despite the fact they were considered childish to their peers now, and she learnt that he didn't used to like sweet food at all, although his appetite for it had increased in the past year or so. He learnt she lived with her parents, who were still happily married, and as well as Padma, she had a eight year old sister called Priya. That her family home was in a small town outside of Leeds on the edge of the Yorkshire Dales but they spent each summer with her mother's sister's family in France.

She didn't ask about his family, and they both knew this was because she was sticking to their rules, so he volunteered the information that he had an older brother who had gone to Durmstrang and that his family home was in Nottinghamshire, which made Parvati giggle because of the name similarity.

"That's kind of the point. The county's named after our family." He said dryly.

"What, you _own_ the county?" She exclaimed, half incredulous, half amused.

"Nearly." He'd answered indifferently, looking at her with that unreadable expression again, causing Parvati's giggles to die in her throat.

They learnt that their music tastes were similar, their favourite band being the Seven Sirens. Theo told her about how he used to play the guitar and sing, but he'd stopped doing that in his early teens. Parvati revealed that sometimes she and Padma still swapped places and that occasionally even their parents were fooled. He learnt that her favourite time of year was spring and she learnt that his was winter; they learnt that she wasn't a morning person, and neither was he - but then what teenager was, they'd asked themselves.

Neither of them had opted for 'dare' yet.

"Truth of dare?" Parvati asked, about an hour after the locks had clicked into place.

The room had become warm and close, the air heavy and soporific; they'd both had to take their jumpers off. Parvati found her body had relaxed and she'd stopped her legs accidentally brushing against Theo in the small space, because it - he - had seemed less threatening after a while, and, okay, if she was being really honest, she kind of liked the feel of him against her.

And something else had changed in the room. There was a feeling of unreality, as if their self imposed rules, and hence the innocence of their conversation, had created their own mini-alternative universe within the four walls of the potions storeroom, where the cruelness, the division, the fear and distrust of the world outside didn't exist.

"Truth." Theo said now.

Not for the first time in the last hour, Parvati noticed his eyes wander up and down her body. There was a glint of something in them that she'd seen in other boys' eyes before. In the Beauxbatton boys' eyes on warm summer evenings, and in Dean's eyes the weeks after he had split up with Ginny, when Parvati had lain with him in the disused broom shed off the old Quidditch pitch, letting him kiss and touch her, as she did the same to him.

She had liked Dean yes, but not really _liked_ him, not like that, but she had felt bad for him after Ginny had dumped him for such a rubbish reason as 'helping her through the portrait hole too often', for Merlin's sake. And Dean had been her friend and she trusted him, so she let him go further than other boys had before or since because, well, she was curious and impulsive and a teenager with hormones. She wasn't sure now which one of them had ended it - maybe both of them somehow - but it had been amicable and Parvati was so grateful, so relieved, that their friendship had survived it.

But she saw that glint now in Theo's eyes too, as his eyes occasionally glided up and down her body. Something like hunger. Like desire. And it intrigued her.

"What are you thinking about now?" she asked quietly, softly, not sure if she was prepared to hear the answer.

He gave her that piercing look again. Parvati was beginning to get used to the jolt of something like electricity - but far more pleasant than that - that shot though her body when he did that.

"I'm thinking about how, when you absent-mindedly flick your hair over your shoulders, there's this almost intoxicating scent that travels through the air and hits me like a wave and it's really fucking distracting," His voice, in contrast to the actual words he was speaking, was frustrated, agitated, almost angry, his words coming out in a rush. "And I'm thinking about how your skirt has gradually ridden higher up your legs as we've sat here but how you seem completely oblivious to it which I can't get my head around because I can't _not_ see it. And I'm thinking the same about that tiny piece of exposed skin between you skirt and shirt, and how I'd like to run my tongue along it, maybe bite gently down on your hip bone and see what you taste like. And I'm thinking about what it would feel like to stroke my fingers through your hair and whether your cheeks would feel as soft as they look if I were to reach out and touch them. But that I would never do any of that for obvious reasons but how it's really fucking hard in this tiny space when I know that I don't even have to _move_ to do any of it-"

Theo stopped abruptly, forcing his lips together and clapping his hand over his mouth. He looked away from her, shaking his head rapidly as if trying to clear it.

"That bloody potion" He muttered, then his eyes darted back to her, accusation and warning in them. "You fucking asked Patil."

And he was right - she _had_ asked him and she couldn't blame him for not filtering his answer - for saying those things - it was the veritaserum's work. And he'd said it all as if he was annoyed at himself for thinking it, as if he was feeling those things despite himself.

But his words had evoked a whole array of confused and confusing feelings in her. She immediately felt self conscious and had an urge to reach down and pull her skirt as low as possible and straighten her shirt. But she didn't want to do that because then he would know that she felt exposed and that would make her even _more_ self conscious.

But the worst thing was how she knew she was _meant_ to feel revulsion at a Slytherin perving on her but that what she _actually_ felt was pleased she had this effect on him - was maybe flattered, yes - but there was more. Because as he had said those things, a powerful feeling of desire that had already been growing in her, but which she'd been trying to suppress, rippled across her body.

Because if she was really, _truly_ honest with herself, there was a part of her wanted him to do all those things - and maybe more - too…


	16. Or Dare

**Ch. 16 Or Dare**

 _'"There is a room in the Department of Mysteries, that is kept locked at all times. It contains a force that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than forces of nature."'_

\- Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

 **Parvati**

There was something unpredictable and volatile in the air of the potions cupboard now, simmering in the space between Theo and Parvati. Parvati felt she had to speak, but was worried the veritaserum would cause her to say more than she wanted. So she employed a technique that she'd learnt from the many games she'd played in the Gryffindor common room and round the campfires in France. Which was to say something truthful but short and use all her self control to not say a word more.

"That was a lot of things to think."

Theo actually let out a chuckle then. A genuine one, not the scathing, derisive ones she'd heard from him before. He closed his eyes, leant his head back against the shelf behind him and took a few deep breaths.

"So it's your turn and I choose truth." Parvati stated, hoping that they could both pretend that what had just passed between them had never happened.

Theo took another deep breath and looked at her. Merlin, she wished he wouldn't look at her like that. Or she wished her body didn't respond in the way it did when he looked at her like that.

"What's your worst weakness?" He asked quietly. Parvati thought about how that could have been close to breaking their rules - knowing the enemy's weaknesses - but concluded in her case it was safe enough to answer.

"Probably distractibility, a short attention span. Things bore me quickly. And I can be impulsive and not think things through. So I can say things that are careless, or seem thoughtless, that I don't mean," - and before he had a chance to make the joke, she got in there first - "It means I forget to set counter charms and get locked in tiny cupboards with people I normally wouldn't give vomit-flavoured Bertie Botts Beans to." Dangerously good looking and ever intriguing people she thought, but she fought back the Veritaserum with all her willpower and fortunately the latter didn't slip off her tongue.

He smiled again at that. A rare, genuine smile and she noted with surprise how much it changed his face. His eyes became softer. He looked… _kind_. But it was gone just as soon as she'd registered it.

"I choose dare," He said, and she was momentarily taken a back because it was the first time either of them had chosen dare.

It was difficult to think of something that would be a challenge for him but still within the rules of their game. Nearly everything in Hogwarts had become dangerous in recent weeks.

"Okay..." She said eventually. "For one morning at breakfast in the next week, you have to eat at one of the other house tables and make conversation with someone on there. You can choose what house you sit at."

His face was back to that indifferent expression, wry smile hinting at the edges of his lips.

"I'll get thrown off. They'll curse me all the way back to the Slytherin table. And then my house mates will curse me even more. Potentially breaks our rules Patil."

She tried to ignore how her body reacted when he said her name.

"Depends on who you talk to. I'll make sure you don't on Gryffindor if you sit with me. And Luna Lovegood is pretty accepting in Ravenclaw. I'm sure you'll be fine."

Something crossed Theo's face then - was it recognition? - before it became unreadable again.

"The weird girl with the white hair?"

"It's pale blonde. And she's not weird, just…different." Parvati said, aware that a couple of years ago, she would have been the one calling Luna weird. But the war and Dumbledore's Army had changed that. At least there was some good that had come from it all, Parvati thought.

Theo, looking thoughtful, mumbled something she couldn't hear, although she thought she heard the word 'thestrals'.

"Okay. Any house of my choosing. I'll do it. Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Why are you in detention?"

"You know why - you were in the same Dark Arts lesson," She said puzzled.

'"Yeah - you didn't kill your mouse. But why? Couldn't or _wouldn't_?"

"Good question…I'm not sure myself…I knew I really didn't want to…but I did try. A bit. Totally missed the mouse most of the time…poor thing. Think it was petrified…"

His eyes had that intense look again, as if studying her.

"Truth." He said, moving the game on.

"What's your biggest weakness?" She asked, echoing his question again.

Theo looked ahead again, at the rows of potions lining the shelf opposite.

"Anger," He said after a pause. "I have a temper. Well, more than a temper. It's like….there's this fury that simmers and boils over in to just…white hot rage. It completely blinds me of anything but wanting to fight...to hit out...I was beginning to control it but it's got worse again recently," He finished bitterly.

Parvati was looking at Theo, remembering how that rage had seemed to have taken Theo over after the storeroom door had locked into place, when she saw it: there, on the shelf just behind, above and to the left of Theo's head. Why hadn't she seen it before?

A bottle of brown liquid with a yellowing label that read _Essence of Dittany._

But they'd said there wasn't any left in the castle! She thought of the wound on her hand that, for the first time since Alecto had cut it into her skin, she'd managed to forget about for the last couple of hours. With rising indignation she realised that what Ginny and Neville had suspected was true - they _did_ have some but were deliberately withholding it from them. The _bastards_.

And so she didn't think as she bolted forward to reach over Theo's shoulder to grab the bottle - her chest having to ever so slightly press against his, her hair falling like a curtain and brushing against his face - until it was too late and in one, swift movement Theo had sat bolt upright and seized both her wrists with his hands before she had reached the bottle. Parvati had no choice but to turn to him and they both froze, their faces inches from each other. As she saw the look in his eyes and remembered what he'd said earlier, she realised too late what she'd done.

Because the look was searching and lost and hungry.

Both their breathing had quickened - she could feel his hot against her cheek - and that pool of desire that had been simmering deep within her was spilling over all of her body now and she desperately wanted him to move that bit closer to her and press his lips to hers. But he wasn't moving and neither was she and it was like some kind of stand-off, but so, _so_ different to the one they had had just after the door had locked into place, which seemed like hours, _days_ ago now.

It was Parvati that gave in and leant forward, but as she did so Theo ever so slightly jerked his head back - a tiny movement - so she leaned even further towards him to make her lips meet his. And then he was kissing her back, slowly at first, their lips moving gently together, then urgently and impatiently as the kiss deepened. But it was quite an awkward angle and so they moved together, his hands on either side of her waist as he lifted her so she was straddling him. And that felt good because she could continue to kiss him whilst she moved her hands over the muscles of his chest and arms, feeling the heat of him. And then his hands were in her hair and she vaguely thought about how he had wondered what that would feel like, and then he moved his mouth to her neck and, Merlin, that felt fucking amazing and he was kissing and sucking and gently biting there as if he knew exactly what to do to make her completely lose herself in sensation - and part of her cringed when she heard herself let out an involuntary moan, but another part of her thought, well, I'm enjoying this and maybe it's okay if he knows how much. And all the while she had felt him grow harder underneath her which had turned her on even more, leading her to move her hips subtly against that part of him, causing him to let out a quiet groan, whilst one of his hands stroked firmly up her leg...And a dulled, muffled voice in her head was saying this was _so_ bad and _so_ wrong but her body was screaming that this felt _so_ good and _so_ right and -

And then there was the sound of someone entering the classroom outside - the distinct shuffle and mumbling of Slughorn - and they both froze, Theo swearing under his breath.

In that moment, when they were both still, Parvati made sure she bottled everything she was feeling - the heat of his hands against her skin, the feel of him hard underneath her, the lingering touch of his mouth on her neck - because she knew that this could never, _ever_ happen again. Yet no one had ever made her feel like he had in the last few minutes, and she didn't want to lose that.

Then they were both moving fast: hurriedly grabbing for their wands, standing up, straightening their now dishevelled uniforms and steadying their breathing. Slughorn was shuffling about the classroom; he hadn't yet reached the other side of the door, apparently confused as to where they could be.

Parvati noticed that Theo was standing with her back to her and the storeroom door, his hands leaning forward on a shelf, eyes closed in concentration, as if he was practicing occlumency or something.

"Are you okay?" she asked, as she heard Slughorn start to mumble incantations on the other side of the door.

"You got me quite excited Patil."

His eyes were on the tops of his trousers and she followed his gaze and understood what he was trying to control before Slughorn reversed his locking charms. She thought about what she'd heard Seamus and Dean say about this situation and she later blamed the endorphins that were now coursing through her system, and the feeling of unreality that she'd experienced for the last hour or so, for not really thinking as she giggled and said:

"Think of something routine, boring - rune translations? - or something serious - bad - like your mother dying or something."

And she saw surprise on Theo's face then, for the first time. Then Hurt. Vulnerability. It was there for only a moment, but unmistakable, before shifting into something harder, angrier. And she remembered too late the gossip she'd heard, about his mother being dead, long before they'd started at Hogwarts.

"I'm sorry I-"

But the door swung open then and Slughorn was there, fussing, and they were explaining and then they were being dismissed because "well, you've been here long enough - hahhaha..."

As they both stepped into the cold of the corridoor, out of earshot of Slughorn, Theo stopped and grabbed her forearm, leaning down to whisper in her ear, low and hard and bitter. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I was wrong. You're not stupid. But the _bitch_ part- that still stands."

He relinquished her arm with an abrupt shove before marching away and Parvati was left with an awful conflicting mixture of lingering arousal, guilt, and fear of his anger. She was halfway back to Gryffindor Tower when she felt a warm, sticky sensation on her hand and looked down to see that her blood traitor wound was seeping, leaving a trail of crimson droplets all along the corridors.

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A/N: Your thoughts and reviews are cherished and treasured.


	17. Corrupted

**Ch. 17 Corrupted**

 _'"Yes, Harry, you can love, said Dumbledore, who looked as though he knew perfectly well what Harry had just refrained from saying. Which, given everything that has happened to you, is a great and remarkable thing."'_

― Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

 **Theo**

"You've got blood on your shirt mate.'' Blaise commented casually when Theo entered the Slytherin common room after his detention.

Theo had hoped to be able to head straight to his dorm, with the aim of being alone to think about what in Merlin's name had just happened in the last couple of hours, but Blaise's words caught him off -guard. He stopped mid-stride and looked down to see streaks of drying blood across his chest and his heart sped up as he realised it must have been from the mark on Parvati's hand.

He looked up at the group of seventh years that were sat about the common room, managing to keep his expression one of practiced indifference. Blaise, Milly, Daphne and Marcus Flint were sat around a game of cards and a few empty bottles of butterbeer, whilst Pansy was perched on Draco's lap on the sofa. The latter twos' lips had been locked together in a kiss that looked like it had been going on a for a while, but at Blaise's words Pansy had dislodged herself from Draco's mouth to turn and look at him, along with the rest of them. Six pairs of eyes stared at him with curiously. These days at Hogwarts, it wasn't unusual for a Slytherin to have blood on their clothes, but it wasn't an everyday event either.

Fortunately, Theo had managed to down a few mouthfuls of veritaserum antidote he'd swiped on his way out the potions cupboard. It was a potential death sentence to not have the capacity to lie convincingly in the Slytherin common room.

"Sixth year Hufflepuff got in my way when I was heading to detention." The lie came out easily and convincingly, and Theo put an edge to his voice that warned people to not ask any more questions. They had all, at some point, either witnessed or been a victim of his rages before and were wary of provoking him. The anger, the strength and the skill at Muggle duelling he'd demonstrated during his fits of fury had even gained him some respect among his Slytherin peers. That was one perverse advantage of it at least, Theo thought bitterly.

Draco nodded imperceptibly before turning back to Pansy.

"Fair 'nough." Blaise mumbled, as him and the others returned to their card game.

Relieved at their lack of interest, Theo turned to head to his dorm.

"Theo," Daphne had caught up with him on the threshold to the dorms, out of earshot from the others. He noticed she smelled of healing potions and something floral he couldn't place. It wasn't her usual smell. "Who was it?"

"What?"

"The sixth year? Who was it?" There was concern in her eyes but also something else…suspicion? Maybe his lie hadn't been as convincing as he'd thought - at least not to Daphne.

"I don't know," He grappled about in his mind for sixth year names. "Cleevy or something."

"Creevey? Colin Creevey? He's Gryffindor. And Muggle-born. He's not even at Hogwarts this year." Merlin, she was persistent.

"What do you care? His name wasn't relevant." He said, warningly again. He noted how she'd said 'Muggle-born 'and not 'mudblood,' even though it was now compulsory for everyone to refer to Muggle-borns as mudbloods - in classes, in the hallways, even in their bloody sleep.

"I don't. I don't care." Daphne placated, and he could see the hurt in his eyes. Which meant guilt started spitting out from deep inside him.

"How's your evening been?" He said more warmly, trying to make things better. Daphne shrugged.

"The usual. Butterbeer. Cards." Her lip curled up in disgust. "Flint being a sleaze. He's always sleazy when he's drunk. Well, and when he's sober."

"D'you need me to -"

"No. It's fine. I can handle it." Daphne smiled. "Night Theo."

"Night."

And so he was finally able to escape to the relative solitude of his dorm. He closed the curtains around his bed and lay staring up at the ceiling, thinking through the events of the evening.

It had taken him by surprise that she'd been there at all. So much so that his hand had slipped when he'd heard her name, cutting deeply into his thumb. He'd known she'd got a detention - he'd been paying as much attention to her in that D.A. lesson than any other - but he hadn't known what it was and hadn't thought it would be as lenient as an evening preparing and storing potion ingredients.

How the hell was he going to deal with being in this classroom alone with her for two hours? had been his initial reaction. Within minutes, he was already hyper-aware of her presence: the way her hair moved whilst she hopelessly tried to cut up sopophorous beans and how her scent had started to invade the air around them. So he'd decided to just ignore her as much as possible, to try and block her out of his awareness.

But when those locks had clicked into place, all that that had potentially meant raced through his mind, and the rage bubbled up and spilled over.

"You stupid _bitch_!"

He couldn't, _couldn't_ be stuck with her.

Not her. Not in this tiny fucking space with the smell of her already in the air, pervasive and delicious, and where there was nowhere to go without her being in arms reach. It would drive him crazy.

Which is why he so desperately tried to open the door, even trying a _bombarda maxima_ on it, which just caused the wood around the lock to splinter pathetically. That's when he knew it was in vain. In these times, Slughorn's - probably in fact Snape's - protections were so advanced they were outside of his skills to counter them.

So he'd started shouting and banging on the door. Merlin, he must have looked and sounded mad. No wonder she'd been ready with her drawn wand. He hadn't really anticipated how defensive she would be but thinking about it now, she was right to fear him and what he stood for. She would be stupid not to. Although she didn't need to…the thought of hurting her was...distasteful to him. But probably best if she remained ignorant of that.

So he was keen - desperate - for them to do something to occupy the time. And why he'd grasped on the game of truth or dare.

Her words had cut through him like knives: _snake that has a Death Eater for a father_ … _the house of dark magic….only out for themselves…let power and ambition come before loyalty and honour…selfish…wrong_.

Merlin, she hated him.

He didn't let it show that he cared of course. He knew it was better that way. They were supposed to hate each other.

As he'd hoped, he'd been able to find out the answers to some of the questions he'd been asking himself for the last two weeks or so. He learnt she was smart. Not academically, no, but in a shrewd, _emotionally_ intelligent way. And she was funny - witty, yes, but also in this charismatic playful way, which made her even more attractive...which was just what he bloody needed.

But the most fascinating thing was how her face had changed when she'd spoken about her family, when she talked of her home in Yorkshire and summer holidays in France, and the worry when she mentioned her twin (still unconscious from that bloody dark curse of Amycus's). Theo, not for the first time, wondered what it would be like to have a family like that - that loved each other unconditionally.

He had begun to regret the veritaserum because he was saying more things than he'd intended and it seemed to have more effect on him than her. It had forced him to spill out all he'd been trying desperately to suppress for the first hour they'd been trapped: the effect of the slight movement of her legs against his, how the scent of her travelled in the air as she moved...and everything else he'd bloody well told her about. But to his relief she had handled it well, and his respect for her had grown even more then...

But what the _fuck_ was she thinking when she went to lean over him like that, pressing herself against him her, hair falling like silk against his face?

When her face was inches from his he'd summoned all his self control and willpower not to kiss her first. Because he could see that she wanted to too - he could see that there was no fear, no disgust in her eyes - just desire. Want.

So he'd waited because he needed her to know, and to remember, that she had _chosen_ this.

Because Merlin-forbid if, despite their promise, she went blabbing to the Harry Potter fan club, confirming all their prejudices about snakes. There was no way the narrative was going to go that way: _he jumped on me...he just went to kiss me and I didn't know what I was doing until it was too late_ …

And when she'd finally leant forward and pressed her lips to his, he'd relinquished all self control then and was lost…and it had felt good, more than good, better than he had imagined - and he'd spent enough nights recently imagining it. He felt himself harden now as he thought about it, and it was so tempting to linger in the memory of that kiss but the cruel, spiteful words she'd spoken came back to him then... _your mother being dead or something_...and how that had been a trigger for the rage to boil again, which, with the help of the remaining veritaserum, had spilled like poison into her ears... _bitch_...

He had regretted it by the time he'd reached the common room. Because maybe she hadn't known about his mother, or maybe she had but she'd genuinely forgotten in that moment, because she'd admitted herself that she could be unthinking, and careless with words. But she wasn't cruel or spiteful, he realised now. She'd not been able to kill a bloody mouse at the orders of a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake.

She was something he could never be.

She was _good_.

Whilst he was sullied and rotten and had been corrupted since the day he'd been born into his Death Eater family.

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 **A** **/N:** Hey! Your feedback/views inspire my muse, so if you've read this far, I will more than appreciate your comments. They warm my heart. (Con crit also welcome).


	18. Sins of the Father

**Ch. 18 Sins of the Father**

 _'"You see what you expect to see..."'_

― Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

 **Parvati**

"Madam Pomfrey! Madam Pomfrey!"

It was the Sunday morning after her detention and Parvati was banging loudly on the door of the hospital wing. Eventually, the healer opened the door, gifting Parvati with one of her worst scowls.

"Miss Patil! Really, you shouldn't be making all this noise on a Sunday morning!"

"It's Padma, Madam Pomfrey - she's awake!"

The healers frown softened as she gave Parvati a sympathetic smile.

"Parvati, I just checked on her fifteen minutes or so ago and I'm afraid she's still unconscious."

"No - she's awake Madam Pomfrey, I know she is!" Parvati insisted, pushing her way in to the room and hurrying to Padma's bedside.

Sure enough, Padma's eyes were half open and her body was stirring.

After Madam Pomfrey got over her surprise at Padma's awakening, she started bustling around administering a reviving potion and doing an assessment of her general health. To Parvati's increasing relief, Padma was fine, just weak from having spent three weeks in bed. As Padma became more alert, Parvati started explaining to her sister what had happened.

"I've been asleep three _weeks_?" Padma said incredulously.

"Yes but-" Parvati began.

"Did you bring her those flowers Parvati?" Madam Pomfrey interrupted, nodding towards Padma's bedside table. On it was a large crystal bowl filled with water, and growing from some mud at the bottom of it were an array of emerald green and midnight blue lotus flowers.

"No," Parvati said, puzzled. No one had told her they'd bought Padma lotus'.

"They're very pretty. My namesake." Padma said smiling, clearly touched by the gift.

"Humph. They just appeared there Saturday morning. I checked them for dark magic - they're completely clean." Madam Pomfrey said begrudgingly.

"I can take them back to my dorm after breakfast then?" Padma asked.

"Breakfast? You won't be going down to breakfast. You haven't moved for three weeks child, think about it - your muscles would have atrophied - we need to restore them before you can be going to breakfast!"

"But Madam Pomfrey - I've missed so much already - I must have tons of work to catch up on-"

"I can help her down to breakfast Madam Pomfrey-"

The twins went on so much that the healer finally gave in and, after giving Padma a final check, allowed Padma to gingerly rise from her bed and be helped to walk by Paravti. The healer was right, Padma's legs were weak and so she put an arm around Paravti's shoulders as they both slowly made their way through the castle to the Great Hall. Parvati continued to tell Padma all she had missed including, in a hushed tone, the reforming of Dumbledore's Army.

She left out the details of her Friday evening detention. She hadn't told anyone what had happened with Theo. She had debated telling Lavender, but although she trusted her friend completely, she still worried she might not quite understand. Parvati didn't fully understand it herself. Besides, it wasn't as if it was ever going to happen again. And that heavy, surreal atmosphere that had developed in the storeroom had made it all feel like a dream anyway. A really good dream but still… She was no longer upset at Theo's parting words - he'd told her his worst weakness was anger and she'd seen the hurt on his face when she'd flippantly mentioned his mother. She could forgive how people could sometimes be a slave to their emotions, because it was a fault she had too.

But, pissing pixies, she wished she'd remembered to grab that bottle of dittany - with all that had happened at the end, she'd forgotten. She was planning on telling the others about it at breakfast though - maybe they could try and get it - but how in Merlin's name they could get past those protective charms she had no idea…

The twins halted as they approached the Great Hall and heard the steady hum of students' chatter on the other side of the door.

"Are you sure you want to do this now?" Parvati asked, aware Padma may still be a bit disorientated from having woken up after a three weeks of sleep. She would be facing the whole school for the first time since the book burning, and Parvati knew how Padma hated to be the centre of attention. "We could wait until after breakfast, then go and watch the Quidditch match together?"

"No, let's go in," Padma said determinedly. "Surely I'm old news by now."

"Okay then…" Parvati said uncertainly.

"Okay." Padma said, taking a deep breath as if bracing herself.

Parvati pushed open one of the large oak doors with her free hand and supported Padma through it.

As the two girls stepped through into the hall, some students turned from their breakfasts and spotted the twins. They started elbowing, exchanging looks and whispering with their neighbors. The chatter of the hall gradually went quiet, falling to a soft murmur, as nearly all eyes turned to Padma and Parvati. There was a movement at the Ravenclaw table as Anthony jumped up and hurried to the twins, taking Padma's other arm round his shoulders to help support her down the aisle. Parvati saw that a few teachers sat eyeing them at the head table, including Snape, his expression indifferent. The Carrows were absent, much to Parvati's relief.

"It's the Gryffindork and Ravenbore blood traitor twins!" A yell came from the Slytherin table, followed by jeering, snickering, and further insults.

Parvati looked and saw that the voices belonged to Flint and possibly Crabbe or Goyle, or both, and her stomach flipped as her eyes glided past Goyle and met Theo's. He was glaring straight at her with a stony expression, ignoring the jeers and snickering of those around him. Parvati quickly looked away. The walk to Padma's seat seemed to be taking forever. She wished people would get back to their breakfasts and mind their own business. _She_ could handle the attention but she knew Padma would be hating it.

Suddenly, a loud clapping rang out across the hall. Parvati saw Terry Boot stand up, turn from his seat to face Padma, and raise his arms in applause. Then Michael Corner let out a cheer, got to his feet and started clapping too, followed by Luna, who stayed in her seat smiling serenely at Padma, then Ginny and Neville, and Hannah, until eventually, about half the students in the hall were applauding and cheering.

"Looks like you're the hero of the day," Parvati heard Anthony say through an amused smile to Padma, who grinned, her drawn face suddenly looking more alive.

"Enough!" Snape shouted loudly from the high table and the students fell quiet. "Enough of this! Sit down and continue with your breakfasts in a _civilised_ manner."

The students abruptly stopped charring and turned back to their breakfasts.

"Do you want to sit at the Gryffindor table Padma? I asked Lavender to save us seats."

"No thanks Pav,' Padma said. "I'll sit with the Claws."

"Sure." Not for the first time, she felt grateful that Padma had made such good friends in Terry, Anthony and Michael.

Once Padma had sat down at the Ravenclaw table, Parvati went to join her fellow Gryffindors, sitting opposite Lavender and next to an empty space that her friend had saved.

She was only a few mouthfuls into her toast when someone dropped a wand down on the table next to her seat. It bounced lightly and then rolled gradually to her hand. Parvati's heart stilled as she recognised the wand. She'd seen it drawn against hers. She'd seen it on the dusty floor of the potions storeroom.

"Mind if I sit here?" The owner of the wand said casually. Parvati didn't need to look up to know that Theodore Nott was seating himself down next to her. Her heart seemed to have stopped beating.

Seamus jumped up from his seat on the other side of Theo and drew his wand at the latter's head.

"Yeah, we _do_ fucking mind!" He exclaimed.

Ginny, Neville and Lavender, their expressions startled and wary, had also instantly reached for their wands which they were aiming at Theo. Parvati thought she should too, so as not to look suspiciously out of place.

"What the hell are you doing Nott?" Ginny, who was sitting opposite Theo, hissed.

"Just fancied a change of scenery." Theo shrugged nonchalantly, seemingly unfazed by the hostile reception he was getting.

"No wands drawn at mealtimes Finnegan, you know the rules by now." Snape, who seemed to have appeared by their table out of nowhere, sneered.

"But - sir - he's a sna- Slytherin!"

"As far as I am aware sitting at a house table other than your own is not, and has never been, against the rules. I have seen you accommodate Miss Lovegood and Mr MacMillan on your table more than once. Maybe you could extend the hospitality. Mr Finnegan: Put. Your. Wand. _Down_."

"What are you _doing_?" Parvati whispered frantically at Theo, taking the opportunity whilst the others were distracted with Snape.

"I keep my oaths Patil." Theo murmured back, his lips barely moving.

Seamus had no choice but to lower his wand and sit down as Snape swept away but, like the others, he kept his wand in his hand, resting on the table, directed at Theo. Parvati had never thought that Theo would go through with the dare she'd set, considering how the detention had ended.

 _They'll curse me back to the Slytherin table_ …he was right, she could see that now, how could she ever have thought that it would be okay for Theo to do this?

"What do you want Nott?" Neville asked coldly. Parvati had rarely seen Neville look so…aggressive.

Theo shrugged again.

"Just being friendly." As Theo spoke, Paravti felt his hand ever no slightly brush against her thigh under the table. She stiffened and gasped involuntarily, looking askance at him. She could see now, in the brighter light of the Great Hall, that his hair was in fact a dark brown rather than black. There were even traces of chestnut in it. "How's your breakfast Longbottom?"

"I think you should leave. You're not welcome here." Ginny's voice was caustic.

Theo's hand was getting bolder now. He'd spread his palm out ever so slightly stroking her just above the knee, over her tights. Was he _serious_? She contemplated pushing his hand away, but her body was betraying her again and was responding in a particularly enthusiastic way to his touch. Then she remembered their words: _I'll get thrown off…I'll make sure you don't on Gryffindor_ …Merlin, _why_ had she said that?

"Ginny - maybe just leave it - we should just ignore him." Parvati said, making her voice as firm as possible.

Theo turned to her and his eyes flitted over her face, as if making some kind of assessment. His gaze made her cheeks flush and heart quicken.

"Isn't it a bit warm in here for a scarf Patil?" He asked innocently. Parvati instantly reached up a hand to caress her neck. She had had to wear her Gryffindor scarf to hide the bruises that had formed there from what she had allowed him to do in that potions cupboard. And he knew this. As she looked into his eyes now, she knew he was thinking about kissing and sucking and biting her soft skin there, and she knew _he_ knew that she was thinking about it too.

Then Theo's hand squeezed hard around her thigh, his fingers pressing firmly into her. The feeling went straight to the top of her thighs and a rush of arousal coursed through her, flooding her core with warmth. She involuntarily jerked her arm and accidentally nudged her glass of pumpkin juice with her elbow, causing some of it to spill on to the table. Theo inhaled abruptly and deeply as if he'd caught a scent of something odd in the air, his eyes widening and darkening. He frowned and quickly turned away from her, to Ginny who was sitting opposite him. The whole exchange hadn't lasted more than a few seconds, and Parvati hoped desperately that no one had noticed anything unusual.

"Looks like a nice spread Weasley," Theo said suggestively, eyeing Ginny's full breakfast plate. "You're a fan of fat, juicy sausages?" His hand continued to rest on Parvati's thigh.

Ginny's expression turned into that hard, blazing look that even intimidated Parvati sometimes. The Gryffindors knew what that look meant. Theo, however, didn't.

"Nott -" Parvati said warningly.

"It's a Quidditch match today." Ginny said by way of justifying her large breakfast, her voice low and hard. Parvati could tell she was doing all she could to contain her anger.

"Oh yeah," Theo continued conversationally, his hand starting to stroke Parvati's thigh again, this time more softly. Tantalizingly. "You're pretty good aren't you? I remember that time when you flew into the commentators box though - smashed it like someone had reducto'ed it."

"Ginny's pretty good with the reducto curse as well actually, aren't you Ginny?" Neville said coldly.

"It served me well when I caused a stack of shelves and crystal balls to fall on to that Death Eater at the ministry Neville." Ginny said, with a forced casualness, not taking her eyes from Theo. Parvati felt Theo's hand instantly withdraw from her leg. Despite herself and the ridiculous situation, she missed it.

"Oh yeah." Neville said, matching Ginny's mock-causal tone.

"But then he _was_ trying to kill us.'"

All of them were still now and Parvati sensed Theo tense up, because they all knew - Parvati, Theo, even Lavender who had been watching the whole exchange quietly knew - that Neville and Ginny were talking about Theo's father.

"That was after Hermione stunned him though Neville, remember?" Ginny continued.

"Yep, she knocked him out cold."

"And then all his friends left him, comatose and buried under a pile of wood and glass."

"Don't sound like very good friends to me." Neville said.

"No," Ginny said, turning to Neville and then back to Theo, her face impassive but eyes burning. "What do you think Theo?' Her words were like acid - bitter and corrosive. "Sounds like a pretty pathetic excuse for a human, doesn't he?"

Theo's previously jovial persona had disappeared. He looked guarded now, his shoulders had slumped like someone had knocked the stuffing from him. There was a pause before he spoke.

"Yeah, he does," He said in a small, subdued voice that Parvati hadn't heard before. He sounded…defeated.

Well, that's what you got for thinking you could start a war of words with Ginny Weasley over breakfast on the morning of a Quidditch match, Parvati thought. She _had_ tried to warn him. But she felt uncomfortable about the whole exchange too. Then, for some reason, the sorting hat's words were came in to her mind: _Being sorted into these four houses, can gift you with friendship and allies, but it also splits and separates, causing you to doubt and to despise, you see, from division and distrust, hate and fear are fed, and in these times of unrest, those things only fuel bloodshed…_

Her fellow Gryffindors they were acting as if Theo was exactly like his father, and Parvati wasn't sure how true that was. She looked again at Theo's inner left forearm, willing her eyes to somehow see through the fabric of his clothes. Then she noticed something else: a criss-cross of thin, faded red marks around his wrist that seemed to carry on under his shirt cuff. She'd seen the marks before - in a diagram in a text book - she could see it in her mind's eye - but, annoyingly, she couldn't remember anything else about them.

Theo straightened up again, squaring his shoulders.

"Right , well, this has been a _delight_ but I think I best get going now." His cheery persona was back. As he spoke, Parvati felt his hands again, very briefly this time, dropping something solid and heavy in to her lap.

"Thanks for the warm hospitality Gryffs." And with that, Theo grabbed his wand, stood up and sauntered down the aisle, leaving the Gryffindors in stunned silence.

"Well, _that_ was awkward." Lavender surmised after a moment.

"What, in the name of buggering fuck, was _that_?" Seamus spat out.

"How dare he? Shit-eating _kneazle-fucker!"_ Ginny was clearly still fuming.

"What did he want? He's good at potions - do you think he was trying to poison our food?" Neville suggested.

"No. That's not exactly subtle. And I think Nott's generally pretty subtle. Also, his hands were under the table most of the time. Weren't they Pav?" Lavender said, looking pointedly at Parvati. Parvati recognised that look. It was the look Lavender had after she had seen or heard something gossip-worthy. Shrewd. Perceptive.

"Yes." Parvati mumbled into her breakfast.

"Then was he trying to jinx us under the table?" Neville continued.

"His wand was on the table the whole time. Maybe it was just a stupid bet - or dare - he was having with his snake mates? I don't think we need to worry about it." Parvati said dismissively.

As the others carried on discussing Theo's motives, Parvati turned back to her breakfast, but she found she'd lost her appetite. She looked up to find Lavender still staring at her.

"Are you okay Pav?" Lavender asked quietly.

"Fine." Parvati wished Lavender would stop looking at her with that searching look.

"Your hand's bleeding." Lavender stated simply.

Parvati looked down to see the wound on her hand was, indeed, seeping blood again. She looked at the others' hands but, although theirs all looked red and irritated, only hers was bleeding.

"Pissing pixies." Parvati said crossly and she went to scrabble in her skirt pocket for her Murtlap cloth.

And as she did she so was able to look down at her lap: at a small cloth bag that had been placed there along with a dusty bottle with a yellowing label that read _Essence of Dittany._

* * *

A/N: Your thoughts and reviews are cherished and treasured.


	19. Heroic in Really Quiet Ways

**Ch. 19 Heroic in Really Quiet Ways**

 _'"People think they know all there is to know about you but the best bits of you are - have always been - heroic in really quiet way."_ '

\- Ginny to Harry, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child.

 **Ginny**

 **3 Weeks Later**

"That little piece of shit-eating _Skrewt_!" Lavender spat out, as she and her fellow seventh years clambered through the portrait hole into the common room.

"Who?" Ginny asked distractedly. She was sitting on the window seat again, her legs stretched out in front of her with her diary on her lap.

"Zacharias-bloody-Smith. He's only gone and joined the Inquisitorial Squad." Seamus replied bitterly as he and the others slumped down at the table, pulling books and parchment out of their bags. "He was a member of the D.A. And they call _us_ traitors!"

"And a Hufflepuff! Honestly, sometimes I really think that hat needs to take retirement," Neville grumbled.

"Hmm…he was a slippery little fucker when he was in the D.A. though," Ginny said calmly.

It was disappointing that Smith had joined the I.S., but not surprising. Other non-Slytherin students had joined it in recent weeks, much to Ginny and her friends' dismay, including Marietta Edgecombe in Ravenclaw and even a third year Gryffindor.

It added to the growing sense of distrust amongst the students - people had started to think twice about who they could trust, eyeing their dorm-mates suspiciously, putting muffliato spells around them during break time conversations. The air of Hogwarts had become thick with fear and paranoia. It made recruiting to the D.A. harder. And the indoctrination was seeping into people's consciousnesses like an insidious poison, not least through the repetition of favoured slogans and words: "Magic is Might" they had to chant at the beginning of every class, holding their arms outstretched and crossing their wrists together in front of them - a ridiculous new salute to the new regime. And even the younger Hufflepuffs were saying "mudblood" now without so much as grimacing.

"Seamus, what are you doing?!" Lavender cried, snatching the boys parchment out from under him and inspecting it closely. "You've written 'Muggle-borns' instead of 'mudbloods', like, a hundred times! We can't do that remember, it's compulsory to use the term 'mudblood' - you can change it back - I learnt an editing charm from Hermione -"

"I'm doing it on purpose," Seamus said defiantly.

"What's the homework?" Ginny asked, getting up and walking over to the table.

"'Outline and discuss the dangers of magical kind breeding with Muggles and the disadvantages of half-blood offspring,'" Parvati recited in disgust. "Which is quite ridiculous really, seeing as I heard You-Know-Who's apparently a half-blood."

"Godfric-forbid, don't mention that in it," Neville said drily.

 _"Or_ write 'Muggle born' a hundred times - Merlin knows what Alecto would do!" Lavender exclaimed.

"I can't - I just can't write mudblood so casually like that- you remember what Hermione always used to say - about the power of language: 'words are our most inexhaustible form of magic, capable of both inflicting injury and remedying it'," Seamus exclaimed passionately.

"Wasn't that Dumbledore?" Ginny queried.

"Whatever. This might seem little to you, but it's a big deal to me."

"I think Lavender might be right -" Parvati began.

"It's not that I don't think we should take a stand Seamus, I just think we should…choose our battles." Lavender placated.

"Right, and this is a battle I'm choosing," Seamus said with finality, holding his hand out expectedly at Lavender, waiting for the return of his homework. She held steadfast for a moment, the two of them glaring at each other, both defiant, both refusing to give in. Then Seamus reached for her hand, gently stroking over it and Ginny noticed colour flood Lavender's cheeks as her grip on his parchment softened, and she relinquished it to him.

Lavender, still with a frown on her face, returned to her own work, and the group lapsed in to quiet as they went back to their studying. Ginny sat back on the window seat, thinking that to Seamus, this homework was probably an insult to the very core of his identity - of who his father was.

"Careful mate, you're getting blood on my book," Neville said kindly to Seamus, eyeing his friends 'blood traitor' wound.

"Sorry," Seamus murmured, shuffling further away from Neville.

"No worries. Shame that dittany potion didn't work."

Whilst she'd been in detention a few weeks ago, Parvati had managed to swipe a bottle of dittany essence, some silver powder and other ingredients needed to make a complicated healing potion, along with a page of instructions from one of the Slughorn's private books. Ginny and the others had been impressed when Parvati had presented the cloth bag and dittany bottle - effectively, everything they needed to make a generous amount of the potion.

"That was clever thinking Pav," Padma had said in surprise.

They'd all been excited, anticipating a relief from the constant stinging and burning and bleeding. But to their disappointment, not even that potion had worked. Although it seemed to quell the worst of the bleeding when applied immediately, the effect didn't seem to last long. And everyone still felt the pain that radiated up through their hands and ricocheted round their head when they had anti-Voldemort sentiments. It was like having a permanent headache. Terry and Padma - who knew the most about dark wounds and healing potions - had been amazed, in a kind of horrified way.

"If that potion isn't going to do it, fuck knows what is," Terry had stated, bewildered.

Now, Ginny looked down at her own hand, which had started to sting irritatingly. probably because she had been contemplating what to write in her diary. A contemplation which had just given rise to a collection of hateful feelings towards Voldemort and a pathetic pining for Harry. After the chamber, it had taken Ginny a while to trust writing in a diary again. She had only summoned the courage to do so after Hermione had given her a new diary for Christmas of her second year.

"It's from a Muggle stationers - H.W. Jones - you can't get a more un-magical shop anywhere. Trust me- there's literally _no_ magic in those pages whatsoever," Hermione had told her as she'd opened it. Ginny had been amused and touched that Hermione had known exactly what she'd wanted - what she'd needed. So Ginny had begun to tentatively share her thoughts with the diary and Hermione had been right - the pages were reassuringly, thoroughly un-magical. Hermione had bought her a Muggle diary for Christmas every year since.

Ginny's entries had become fewer and less frequent over the years, but every now and again she found it helped to order her mind if she spilled all that was swimming through it on to her diary's pages. Right now though, she was finding it hard to articulate her jumbled thoughts into any words at all.

She looked out the window at the wide, gentle slope of grass that descended down to the lake. It was wet, muddy and littered with fallen autumn leaves now, but was transformed in to a lush green when the summer came. A memory came to Ginny of sitting on the grass with Harry in a patch of shade at the end of last term, after Dumbledore's funeral, his arm warm and solid around her shoulders. She had cherished those stolen moments when it had just been them, with no imminent danger for once, but with the knowledge in both their minds of their impending separation.

She had made a conscious effort to burn him into her memory. Which was quite ironic really, because every time she thought of him now it was like someone twisting a knife in to her heart. She would start thinking of where in Merlin's name he was, of what he might be doing...why the hell couldn't she have gone with them, why did she have to stay here in this bloody school doing _what_ exactly? Yes, it had been good to reform Dumbledore's Army, but…she couldn't help compare herself to Harry, Ron and Hermione who were actually _out_ there, doing whatever it was they had to do to end Voldemort. Although a part of her knew, she couldn't quite explain how or why, that it was meant to be just the three of them -

"Ginny Weasely..."

The sound of someone whispering her name jolted Ginny out of her reverie and she scanned the common room looking for the culprit. A group of first years were sitting by the fire, muttering and giving her sideways looks. Being whispered about was something Ginny had got used to over her years at Hogwarts, and now the words - whether good or bad - tumbled off her like blunt knives would.

In earlier years they had mostly been derisive and mocking, along the lines of: " _Have you seen her hand-me down clothes - they're_ wizards." _…_ _"And those tatty second hand books she has"…"Oh Merlin, did you hear that cupid message she sent Harry Potter?"_

Then, in later years, the tone had changed to admiration and maybe even envy: _"All the boys seem to like her."..."Well, she is the best chaser in years apparently."…"Have you seen that awesome bat bogey hex she does?"..."She's a Weasley but none of her brothers are here now."…"She's Harry Potter's_ girlfriend _!"_

But the whispers at the end of her first year had been the worst: " _The darkest wizard ever was in her_ mind, _imagine!"…"He possessed her"…"She let that monster out the chamber and killed those chickens, urgh"…"Apparently she was in_ love _with him or something"…"What if he's still_ in _her?"_

She remembered those whispers the day she had come out of the hospital wing. After the basilisk, the chamber, after Tom Riddle had finally been banished from her soul. Even her own housemates had shunned her as if repulsed, as if being near her would in some way be contaminating. She had retreated to a corner of the common room, trying to ignore the stares and whispers and concentrate on reading _Quidditch Through the Ages_. After a moment or so, a shadow had fallen across the pages of her book and she had looked up, preparing a retort for an intrusive question or snide remark. Her heart had quickened when she saw Harry standing there, a slight awkwardness about his posture, his hair sticking up in all directions.

"Wanna play exploding snap?" he'd asked casually, a friendly smile on his face. Ginny had had to fight the urge to hug Harry then, for his attempt at making everything normal; for his kindness. Because sometimes people just wanted someone to play exploding snap with.

She had gratefully followed him over to the fire and sat down on the floor with him as he'd begun to deal the cards, and he, Hermione and Ron had wordlessly enfolded her in to their circle. She realised now that those were the moments when she had properly fallen for Harry - when he was heroic in really quiet ways. Not so much when he had followed her in to an infamous underground chamber to save her life, or when he had pulled the Sword of Gryffindor out of the Sorting Hat and wielded it at a monster snake -

Ginny sat bolt upright. "The Sword of Gryffindor!" she exclaimed, causing the others to look up.

"What about it?" Neville called, as Ginny got up and hurried over to them again, taking a seat at the table.

"How could I have forgotten!?" she whispered to them urgently. "Harry said something to me about Dumbledore leaving the Sword of Gryffindor to him in his will -"

"Dumbledore left Harry the sword? Was it Dumbledore's to give?" Lavender queried sceptically.

"The sword is any true Gryffindor's - it presented itself to Harry in the chamber - Harry's used it to overcome Voldemort once already. We'll need it again, I'm sure of it! Maybe we can get it to him through the Order? And anyway, Snape has no right to it - I can't stand it lying there in his office, with him thinking he has some claim to it!"

Neville was nodding. '"If - when - it comes to fighting, we have to be ready. And having the sword will make us more ready."

"Right. Yeah." Seamus said drily. "Sounds great and all but how in Merlin's name are we gonna steal one of the most protected objects in all of Hogwarts?"

* * *

 **Parvati**

Parvati stood up abruptly from the cushion she'd been lounging on in the Room of Requirement and started pacing up and down impatiently.

It must have been the hundredth time she'd heard the same conversation. Neville, Ginny, Luna, Hannah and Seamus were all sitting on the cushions, talking through the stealing-the-sword plan again, whilst other members of the D.A. practiced spells elsewhere in the room, and again they were coming up against the same problem.

"We know how to make sure Snape's out the way for the evening but it's how we get in his office that's the problem," Seamus said for about the fiftieth time in the last few days.

They'd been through all possible methods of gaining access to the headmaster's office, even an elaborate plan of flying up to the windows of the tower, but each one had had too many potential pitfalls to make it feel safe enough.

"Going in the conventional way - up the staircase - is the safest way. We just need the password," Neville said. Again, it was about the fiftieth time Parvati had heard that one. These conversations were starting to go round in circles, she thought irritably, but was painfully aware she didn't have anything useful to contribute. "He only protects his office with the password, it's too much hassle to undo and redo protection charms each time he goes in and out."

But Snape, they had found out, changed his password frequently. They had tried to find out what it was from the students that had been called to his office but none of them had been told it - they'd been accompanied by various teachers or members of the I.S. who'd whispered it to the gargoyles.

"And not even all members of the I.S. know it, I don't think. Just a few select seventh years. Malfoy, Parkinson, Daphne-Ice-Queen-Green, Flint, Blaise and Nott," Ginny listed morosely.

"Nott?" Parvati said impulsively, halting her pacing and turning to look at the others.

"Yep. Think he's Snape's favourite of the lot. Apparently he takes tea with Snape an evening every week or so. Can you imagine? _Tea_. With _Snape_ ," Seamus said disgustedly.

"Really?" Parvati enquired, cautious not to come across as too interested.

She still hadn't told anyone else about what had happened between her and Theo during their detention. Lavender had asked subtle questions on repeated occasions - her best friend had definitely noticed something odd going on when Theo had joined them at the Gryffindor breakfast table - but Parvati had deflected and dismissed them. Padma had been suspicious of her for having the knowledge and quick thinking to get the correct ingredients and instructions for the healing potion - which would have been insulting if Parvati had been a more insecure person - and she'd shaken her twin's inquisitive looks off too.

She just...didn't know if she could explain her actions, and up to now had repeatedly told herself that it would _never_ happen again so it didn't matter anyway…although a part of her mind had increasingly drifted off into daydreams of a world in which it would be legitimate to kiss Theodore Nott again, because it had felt...so, so good. She was also aware that, if it were to get out, the incident might put Theo in danger somehow. She didn't know why she felt the need to protect him, except that, well, she had been partly responsible for what had happened too…and then he _had_ tried to help them with the dittany -

"Yeah, he's like Snape's little Potion's prodigy or something," Seamus spat out, contemptuously, interrupting Parvati's ruminations.

"I think Professor Snape and Theodore have other things in common too," Luna said dreamily.

"And did you hear about his older brother?" Seamus continued, ignoring Luna. "He got expelled from Hogwarts in his third year. For using the Cruciatus Curse on a dorm mate. He couldn't be arrested because it he was too young, and Dumbledore tried to give him a second chance, and so he stayed for a bit, but then apparently he did it again, to a fourth year. He went to Durmstrung after that - it's the only place that would take him."

Parvati found this information...interesting.

"Is that really true though? I'm not sure if that was just a rumour -" Neville said.

"Go off topic much?" Ginny interrupted impatiently. "We decided against doing Imperio right? On one of the I.S.?" she asked weakly, steering the conversation back to the stealing-the-sword plan. They'd learnt, after the increasingly casual use of the Unforgivable Curses inside and outside classes, that The Ministry were ignoring the use of all dark curses that were cast within the school's boundaries.

"Yes! We're not using Imperius!" Hannah cried out, in uncharacteristic passion. "If we do Imperius, I'm quitting! It's an Unforgivable- and I won't forgive _you_ lot if you do it!"

Parvati noticed Neville reach out instinctively to give Hannah's hand a reassuring squeeze, before immediately looking awkward and pulling away abruptly.

"Yeah," he said firmly. "None of us can do that spell properly - well, we've never really tried or practiced it so Merlin knows what will happen. And Godfric-forbid we'd get caught using it on You-Knows-Who's rising young stars."

"But he'll know the password?" Parvati persisted.

"Who?" Neville asked.

"Th -Nott?"

"I would think it's a safe bet he would, yes." Ginny confirmed.

There was a pause as the others brooded more on their predicament and Parvati continued to pace up and down.

"I - I think I might be able to get the password," she said tentatively after a minute or so.

"What? How?" Ginny asked quietly, as if not daring to believe there was a credible solution to their problem.

"Just-" Parvati thought quickly. "Just something Nott said when I was in detention with him a few weeks ago."

"What? What did he say?"

"I - I can't tell you, it's just given me an idea. Give me a few days and I can see if I can get it?"

"It's not dangerous is it? Why can't you tell us?" Neville asked, concern in his voice.

"I just can't. But I promise you - I'll be okay. You need to trust me."

"Okay...well, as long as it's not dangerous and or risky Pav..."

"I'll be fine," Parvati said, with more conviction than she felt.

"It'll be great if we could get the password," Ginny said hopefully.

"I'll do my best."

* * *

She knew it was risky, but Parvati couldn't think of any other way of getting a message to him. She just needed to be alone with Theo for long enough, without being disturbed, and that was never just going to happen naturally - she knew she'd have to orchestrate it. So she waited in the library for a time when Theo had left his seat in search of a book and there were only a few third year Hufflepuffs sitting in eye sight, and slipped the note in between the sheets of his parchment.

To anyone who happened to come across it, it just looked like some hand written notes on dittany - where it grew, how to extract it's essence, the history of its use, etc. She had to trust that Theo would be suspicious enough to revelio it, so the letters would morph - some disappearing, some re-arranging - into a message that simply read:

 _Meet me in the place where we told the truth. Midnight this Thursday. P._

* * *

A/N: Your thoughts and reviews are cherished and treasured.


	20. Trading the Truth for a Lie

**Ch. 20 Trading the Truth for a Lie**

 _'"You do care," said Dumbledore. He had not flinched or made a single move to stop Harry demolishing his office. His expression was calm, almost detached. "You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it."_

― Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

 **Parvati**

That Thursday night, Parvati hastily made her way through dark corridors and down empty stairways to the Potions classroom, just as the Astronomy Tower clock finished striking midnight far away on the other side of the castle. As she pushed the classroom door open, it let out a piercing series of creaks which sounded alarmingly loud in the silence of the night, causing her to cast a Muffliato as she closed the door behind her. Only a few wall-mounted torches lit the room so Parvati had to squint into the gloom to see if he had come. She hadn't been sure that he would.

But there, leaning against one of the desks, arms folded in front of him, was Theo. As she walked closer to him, he remained still, looking at her with a blank, steadfast expression. Now she was here, Parvati wasn't quite sure how to begin, so she stood awkwardly, haphazardly practicing various ways of wording her request in her mind. She was relieved when he spoke first.

"This. Is not the cleverest venue for an illicit meeting Patil. You know Slughorn's living quarters are next door, and on the other side of that's the Slytherin common room?" His voice was scathing.

Parvati had been aware both those places were on the basement level but hadn't known they were so near. "Well, you still came," she retorted, trying not to sound too defensive.

"And I'm really not sure why. _Why_ am I here, Patil?" He sounded exasperated, almost angry. She faltered, taken aback his hard detachedness.

"I - I wanted to thank you. For the dittany and the other ingredients, and instructions..." Parvati hated the hesitancy in her voice.

She saw a flash of something like surprise cross Theo's face - a tiny raise of his eyebrows - before it went back to cold indifference.

"Hasn't done much good has it? Looks like it was as useful as a mute Mandrake," Theo said contemptuously, nodding to Parvati's hand and making her aware that it had begun to sting painfully. She glanced at it and noticed that the wound, which had been closed before she'd left to meet Theo, was glistening; wet and open once again.

"It has - it's helped a bit. And - and -" She paused, preparing to force her next words out. She was nervous about saying them but was determined that she would, after having thought about them so much over the last few weeks. "I also wanted to say sorry. For what I said about your mother. I'd forgotten, you see -" and she faltered once more.

Again, a flicker of something broke through Theo's mask, but it was too quick for Parvati to read. There was a tense silence.

"Right. Well, I'm not a fan of hanging around empty classrooms in the middle of the night, so if you're done with the 'thank yous' and the 'sorrys' I'm going to get going." Theo had pushed himself up from the desk and started to walk towards the door.

"No- wait. There was something else. I - we - I wanted to ask you something." Despite herself, Parvati couldn't hide the urgency in her voice.

Theo stopped and turned back to her slowly. He glared at her, his face as still as marble. Waiting.

"There's something I need to know. It's important. And apparently you're - you're able to tell me."

Theo frowned, the marble cracking. "What?" he asked quietly.

"I need to know the password to Snape's office. For a specific day next week. I know he changes it randomly so you might need to tell me on the day or something..." Parvati had started off sounding confident but her voice had trailed away feebly.

"The password to Snape's office?" There was a hint of incredulity in Theo's tone.

"Yes," Parvati confirmed.

"Why?"

"I - I can't tell you that."

Theo scoffed.

"Patil, Snape isn't just our teacher anymore. He's a _favoured_ , _respected_ Death Eater who killed Dumbledore, one of the greatest and most talented wizards ever. You do know there's a war being fought outside these castle walls, right? This isn't the time for school kid pranks. What are you and your merry band of Potter arse-lickers planning on doing?"

"Like I said, I can't tell you," Parvati was pleased she was able to keep her voice firm this time.

But she'd started to think that this was all, actually, a really a bad idea. He was clearly too interested in what they were planning - and of course he would be. She had naively assumed he would be more…cooperative. She wasn't sure why, or why she'd thought she could trust him. Maybe it was what she had seen - and heard - for those couple of hours in the potions storeroom. Maybe it was the way he had stolen the dittany for her - for them. Maybe it had been the things she'd seen in the last few weeks, since she'd been subtly watching him - like how he'd snickered when Seamus had asked Alecto how much Muggle blood was in her family, and it had looked like he'd been laughing in appreciation of the joke, rather than at the punishment that Seamus was inevitably going to receive.

But now - now, she really wasn't sure if this had been a good idea. Her mother has often said that there was a naivety about her - born out of a tendency to see the good in people, even if no one else could - even if there wasn't any good inside them after all. Maybe, she thought with a sickening sense of doubt, this was one of those occasions.

"Never mind. This - I shouldn't have asked you. Sorry," she said hastily, and made to leave herself.

"Wait." His voice was strained in a way she hadn't heard before, and it made her stop. "Snape doesn't change his password sporadically. It rotates. It's complicated, but there's a system. I could tell you it for any day in the next week."

"Really? That's - that would be good," Parvati tried to keep her tone measured and not sound too enthusiastic. "We're - I need it for the thirty first of October."

Theo raised his eyebrows briefly. "All Hallows' Eve?" he asked softly.

"Yes."

Theo paused, apparently thinking for a moment. Then he nodded imperceptibly.

"Okay. But what do I get in return?" His voice had changed again - it was low and hard now, and Parvati tensed in surprise.

"I - I thought you might just tell me?" To her annoyance, her voice came out small and timid again.

Theo let out a derisive chuckle.

"Just because - well - you gave us the dittany?" she asked hopefully.

"Slytherins: power hungry, dark and selfish-to-the-core, remember? What..." Theo took a slow step towards her. His words were quiet and deliberate, almost mocking. "Do..." Another step. There was deadly calm to him. "I..." He stepped in to a beam of torchlight and Parvati saw it's flame reflect in his eyes. He was so close now - too close - and she found herself taking a step backwards. " _Get?_ " He seemed to bite the last word out, low and threatening, inches from her face.

Parvati's back had come up against a desk, forcing her to stop. Her heart had started to speed up and she felt her cheeks flush. But not from fear - it was merely her body's response to being so close to him again - so close she could feel his heat and smell the scent of him - parchment and ink and some kind of potion she couldn't name. She forced herself to think: it made sense he was attempting to strike some kind of deal, maybe even reassuring, because he wouldn't give her something for nothing...would he?

"What do you _want_?" Parvati found her mouth had gone dry so her voice come out hoarse and thick.

Theo's eyes slowly wandered up and down her body. She knew she wasn't meant to like him looking at her like that, but she did. She really did.

"Maybe carry on where we left off in the potions cupboard?" he murmured.

At the thought of kissing him again, nerves she didn't know existed seemed to come alive and ignite throughout her body. Because since the detention, she'd replayed that kiss in her mind countless times, thinking about what might have happened if Slughorn hadn't interrupted them...thought about it repeatedly as she'd laid in bed at night, her hands gliding under the fabric of her pyjamas...

"What _exactly_ do you want?" she asked firmly because Parvati knew that it was good to be clear with adolescent boys about expectations, even without having to factor in the surreal circumstances she was in now.

Theo reached out a hand and glided his fingers down her cheek, causing her breath to hitch.

"Just a kiss…here…." he whispered as he gently stroked his thumb over her bottom lip. "And maybe here…" His fingers moved lightly across her jaw line and down her neck. She shivered involuntarily, surprised, again, at the powerful reactions he seemed to evoke in her body - just the barely-there touch of his hand had caused a rush of liquid heat between her legs.

"And you'll give me the password?" she asked, her words coming out annoyingly slowly, because her thoughts had become hazy and muddled.

"Yes," Theo said softly, his eyes fixed on her lips as if entranced, his fingers continuing to dance along her jaw line, her cheek and back to her neck. "And no one can know."

"Okay." Parvati managed to speak more firmly this time.

"I have your word?"

"Yes." With a concerted effort, Parvati pushed away the thought that she was somehow exchanging far more than a word for a kiss.

Theo smiled lazily as he leant towards her, closing the gap between them.

This time, instead of the impatient, hungry way they had embraced before, his kiss was tender and soft, as if he were savouring every second of the taste of her lips and the tentative meeting of her tongue against his. But warmth quickly flooded Parvati's body and, despite being aware he was trying to take things slowly, she found herself responding to him impulsively and eagerly, increasing the urgency of the kiss, sinking her tongue deep into his mouth, as her hands threaded through his hair and she grasped it tightly in her fists. She pushed her body into his, and he responded then with equal enthusiasm, as their lips and tongues started to move punishingly against each other, and she noted with surprise how hot he felt, thinking fleetingly that that was quite odd, considering the chill of the classroom...

Then she felt Theo's hands on her waist and she realised he was lifting her up on to the desk behind her, so she helped him by wrapping her arms around his shoulders and leaning her weight against him. They moved in synchrony, as if they fitted together perfectly, their lips never parting. Parvati spread her legs to accommodate his body between them, her skirt riding up high on her thighs, and she felt him press himself hard against her, causing her to moan in to the kiss - in acknowledgement, or appreciation, or just because of the feel of him - she wasn't sure.

After long minutes, he broke away from her mouth, moving down to her neck and she tilted her head to one side submissively, welcoming him, trying to communicate with her body how much she wanted - needed - him. She gasped as he bit his teeth gently into her soft skin and continued to nibble and suck there, leading her to let out a succession of quiet little whimpers as her thoughts scattered and that hot, liquid, aching need within her grew. Because there was something about his mouth on her neck which almost sent her in to another place, which made her get lost in him - under him. It was as if he was claiming her in some way - with his lips and his teeth and his tongue.

She'd felt his cock grow and harden between her legs and the need to be touched there, for some friction, for _anything_ , become almost intolerable. But part of her still-rationale mind knew he was going to keep to his word - _just a kiss_ , he'd said. So she tilted her hips, moving them in tiny, urgent rhythmic movements against him, and he groaned into her neck in response, the vibrations sending a shiver ricocheting through her entire body.

She ran her hands urgently along the wool of his jumper, pressing against his chest, but it wasn't enough - she wanted to feel the bare skin of him - so her fingers found the base of his jumper and lifted it, which was easy enough, but then she had to clumsily fumble around in an effort to un-tuck his shirt.

He stopped and pulled back from her then, causing her own hands to still. His eyes flitted across her face, brow slightly furrowed, like he was trying to understand something. But she knew he'd just see need and lust in her eyes. They paused like that for just a few seconds, both of them panting, their chests rising and falling rapidly, looking in to each other's eyes - her waiting, him thinking. She willed herself to be patient whilst he worked his way through whatever internal conflict he seemed be having, until finally he leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers once again.

Her hands triumphantly managed to gain access to the firm heat of his stomach so she glided them up his chest, feeling with delight the hard contours and edges of him. He breathed a guttural moan into her mouth, which sent another wave of arousal coursing through her and another rush of wetness to soak her underwear. She moved her hands around to his back, stroking down it gently. When she reached the small of his back, she impulsively dug her nails firmly into his skin and raked them all the way up to his neck, in one swift movement.

His back abruptly arched in response, his mouth moving an inch or so away from her- she saw that his eyes were tightly closed. And then he _growled_. The sound was primal, thick and feral, and it went right to her clit.

Theo took a deep breath in, stilling himself and she was able to register that something had changed in him. He reached behind himself and gently grasped her forearms, moving her hands away from his back and to her side. His eyes remained shut and he continued to take deep breaths in and out, as if trying to steady and compose himself. Why was he stopping? she wondered impatiently. Then his lips were moving to her ear.

"Lillium," he whispered thickly, his breath hot against her.

"What?" Her thoughts were still scattered and the unfamiliar word didn't make sense.

"Lillium," Theo repeated, releasing her arms. "The password."

And with that one word, the reality of what she was doing, and why, came rushing back to her and she strove to gather her thoughts and push away the myriad of pleasurable sensations she'd just lost herself in. But to do that, she needed him to move away from her - so she wasn't so close to his heat, his scent, his touch. She pushed a hand gently against his chest and he stepped compliantly backwards, increasing the distance between them by a few steps. Just before he did so, she glanced down at his hands and noticed again the red criss-cross patterns that marked his left wrist.

She had had a legitimate reason for what they had been doing before he'd told her the password, but now he'd disclosed it, she knew she needed to go back to playing her part of a 'Gryffindor trading with a Slytherin-son-of-a-Death-Eater'. She took a deep breath herself, trying to ignore the way her body was missing and craving his touch, the way her muscles had seemed to weaken and melt under him, and hopped down from the table, starting to straighten her clothes.

"Lillium," she repeated to ensure she remembered it, as Theo tucked his shirt back in. With a start, she noticed it was marked with streaks of dark red and, looking down at herself, she saw that her hand was covered in blood, a trail it pooling thickly at her shirt sleeve. It was funny how, even though her hand always bled when she was with him, she never felt any pain... "Lillium. What does it mean?"

Theo inhaled deeply, squared his shoulders and looked at her. His indifferent expression was back. She was starting to get used to his shifts in mood.

"It's Latin. For lily. As in the flower," he replied dispassionately.

"Isn't that a bit… _floral_ for Snape?" Parvati asked doubtfully.

Theo shrugged. "That's what it'll be on All Hallows' Eve...I'm not making it up. And if it changes I'll let you know. You should know by now I'm true to my word."

"Okay... right. Well," Parvati said uncertainly, as she stood awkwardly facing him. How does one end this? She bit back the impulse, born out of habitual politeness, to say 'thank you'.

Theo smirked nonchalantly. "You better go first," he said, as if he'd read her mind. "I'll follow after five minutes or so."

Was that _it_? Parvati thought. After what had just passed between them - again - were they not going to acknowledge any of it? But what was 'it' anyway? Some intense physical attraction that was really inconvenient because they were on different sides of a war? Or had he even felt the same intensity that she had felt? It had been him that had brought it to a close. Maybe it was just frivolous fun for him, or a way of ensuring he had some leverage - a power thing.

"Fine," Parvati said, trying to make her voice a neutral as possible, and turned to go.

"Patil," Theo said tightly. She turned back to him. "Just - you - and your scumsucker pals - don't do anything too stupid will you?"

Parvati felt a rush of irritation. "Don't call us that," she said coldly and turned to leave a second time.

He scoffed in response and just as she reached the door, he called out to her again, light and mocking. "I quite like the arrangement we have going on here. Anything else you want to know, happy to oblige if the goods are always that _eager_."

It was the derogative reference of her as 'goods' and the acknowledgement of how lost she had got with him that caused the rush of anger - why had he had to ruin it? "Fuck you!" She spat indignantly, and went to open the door.

"Is that an offer for the next trade?" he called tauntingly.

Parvati fumed. "There's less chance of that happening than…" - she tried to think of a comparison that wasn't a cliché - "Snape saving Harry Potter's _life_ ," she finished bitterly and turned to leave before he could say anymore.

As she hurried along the cold corridor to the stairs, she reached in to her skirt pocket for her cloth - now soaked in the dittany potion - and pressed it against her wound. She was halfway back to Gryffindor Tower, replaying what had just happened in her mind, when she remembered, with a shock of a stinging jinx, the significance of the red criss-cross marks on Theo's wrist.

They were the marks of an Unbreakable Vow.

* * *

A/N: Comments/questions/reviews are, as ever loved. Thank you :o)


	21. The Lion's Roar

**Ch 21. The Lion's Roar **

_"Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."_

— Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.

 **Theo**

He would have told her the password anyway of course.

But when he saw her again, when he breathed in her scent again, he'd so desperately wanted to kiss her once more - to taste her, to feel the softness of her skin, to hear what noises she'd make if he were to bite in to her neck. Then, when he'd moved closer to her, he had seen the anticipation in her eyes and he'd dared to hope that she might want all that too. And his hopes were confirmed when he heard her breath hitch in her throat, when he heard her want in the quickening of her heart beat and, when he'd moved closer to her, he'd smelt it - like before, in the storeroom and at the Gryffindor breakfast table.

Before they'd agreed the deal, he'd nearly lost his self-restraint and closed the gap between them - nearly launched himself at her - but he'd managed to hold back. The metallic smell of blood from that wound on her hand had restrained him, because it had reminded him of who she was and of the darkness that separated them.

So he'd suggested the trade because it had given them both an excuse to give in to their urges - a legitimacy; a charade. Acknowledging that they just wanted each other was far too complex, would mean far too much...would be too dangerous.

Her passion had surprised him. He'd known, of course, that she was uninhibited and unrestrained with her feelings - especially compared to him - it's what had drawn him to her in the first place. But the urgency with which she'd pulled him to her, ran her hands over him, fumbled hurriedly with his jumper and shirt - it had still surprised him. He couldn't fathom why she'd want him, couldn't compute why she would trust him to do the things they were doing together, and his wonder had caused him to pause, to try and understand, but then her eyes - full of want and need - had pulled him to her again, and she'd made him gasp and moan and push his hard-on in to her.

But when she'd scratched her nails up his back, he'd had to stop. Because it was one of the triggers that let the Wolf lose in him. And giving in to the Wolf could lead him to completely losing himself in lust and he couldn't lose control - not with her, not like that. So he'd summoned all his willpower and stopped, taking her arms gently in his hands, moving them away from him, trying to reassemble his thoughts.

He'd whispered the password into her ear, knowing it would end it, because, with a sickening feeling of resignation, he'd known it would have to end at some point.

And he'd been crass and bullying before she left, even though the words had tasted like bile in his mouth, because she needed to remember what this was. She needed to be reminded of what _he_ was and what he stood for. Because if she allowed herself to feel secure with him - to get close - it would mean danger for her.

It kept her safe for her to keep at a distance from him; for her to keep her guard up. He couldn't let what he was poison all she was. So he was cruel and callous in order to crush any ideas she might have that he was different to what he was - to what he had no choice but to be.

xXx

Sometimes, a lion's pride was the cause of its downfall.

It was at times like this that Theo couldn't help but see the flip side of the qualities for which Gryffindor house was praised: honour, bravery, valour - Theo would just as easily have called them pride, stubbornness and stupidity.

It was another delightful Muggle Studies lesson, a few days after Theo's meeting with Parvati in the Potions classroom. A meeting which Theo had re-lived in his mind countless times since: as he drifted off to sleep in the dark of his dorm, when he awoke fretfully in the middle of the night from some half-nightmare, and in the mornings just before dawn. He didn't think he'd wanked so much in such a short amount of time in the whole of his life. He was thinking about that evening again now, casting glances over the classroom to the waves of dark hair that cascaded down Parvati's back, when Alecto's increasingly shrill voice forced him out of his reverie.

The teacher was waving Seamus Finnegan's homework in the air, furious, yelling about the boy's improper use of language.

Why, Theo thought exasperatedly, once his brain had caught up with the details of why Alecto was so incensed, had Finnegan chosen to fight _this_ particular battle? He understood the power words held, but writing 'mudblood' instead of 'Muggle born' repeatedly in an essay was not going to make one flying fuck of difference to what happened in this school.

Alecto slapped the essay down on her desk and abruptly incendio'ed.

"'Now - for your punishment!" she cried at Finnegan, who'd been told to come and stand at the front of the class. "Professor Carrow has mentioned to me that some of you could do with practicing your Dark Arts skills, so we shall take this as an opportunity to do just that."

Theo tensed. Amycus's teaching had been sporadic. They had jumped around the curriculum randomly, apparently covering whatever curse or hex happened to take the teacher's fancy that week. But lately, Amycus had repeatedly returned to the Cruciatus Curse. They had only practiced on insects and animals so far, but even that hadn't been pretty, especially as they'd started to work up the food chain. Theo had had to really press down on that cauldron of emotions that was buried deep within him and, as usual, get the hell on with it. He'd sometimes wondered if _acting_ cold and cutthroat, over time, made someone so...

"Right. Now - who would like an opportunity to practice their Dark Arts skills?" Alecto asked brightly, looking expectantly around the room. A smattering of hands went up. "Mr Flint - lovely. If you could come to the front. I would like you to administer the Cruciatus Curse on Mr Finnegan."

A murmuring rippled through the classroom, and the waft of several people's cortisol - the stress hormone - hit Theo's nose. It was the first time anyone had been asked to Crucio someone else. Although he'd known it was only a matter of time before this happened, Theo's insides twisted, and a rush of mild nausea hit him. Maybe not so cold and cutthroat after all then, he thought.

"No!" Someone yelled - blurted - from across the room and Theo looked over to see Lavender Brown raising her hand and jumping halfway out of her seat. "No - I mean - I - I would really like to practice Professor - do you think I could have a go?"

"No," Alecto replied tersely. "No, maybe next time, although I appreciate your enthusiasm Miss Brown. Go ahead Mr Flint."

Nice try, Theo thought helplessly. The luck of the Irish had clearly failed Finnegan. From what Theo knew of Flint, he would really mean it when administering the curse. The Brown girl, Theo supposed, would not.

Flint had reached the front of the class and was standing opposite Finnegan. A tense quiet settled over the room. The Slytherin raised wand.

"Crucio!" His voice was firm and uncompromising.

As he fell to the floor, Finnegan didn't shout. Or scream. He roared. He let out a kind of agonising _roar_ as his spine curved backwards at an odd angle and his face twisted in agony. Theo was about to turn away when Flint's wand flew out of his hand and landed with a clatter in front of a row of desks: Longbottom's, Parvati's and Brown's.

Another wave of exasperation rolled over Theo. Bloody Gryffindor recklessness again, he thought: if you were going to try and stop this shit-show, that clumsy attempt at disarming Flint was not the way to go about it. A subtle Confundus could possibly have done the job, with much less chance of being incriminated.

Finnegan had stopped screaming. He was now gasping for breath whilst his body slowly moved in to a foetal position. Flint, who'd initially looked surprised as his wand had sailed out of his hand, now looked enraged.

"It appears you were disarmed Mr Flint," Alecto mocked, amusement in her voice. The teacher walked slowly through the desks to where Flint's wand had landed and looked in turn at the three Gryffindors.

"Which one of you was it?" she demanded coldly.

The lions looked silently back at Alecto, their hands out of view under their desks, their expressions unreadable. Theo thought fleetingly that they would actually do well in Slytherin house with masks like that.

"Fine. Show me your hands," Alecto ordered.

Parvati and Longbottom tentatively raised their hands and placed them on the desk. As usual, their wounds were red and raw, but not bleeding.

"And you?" Alecto snapped at Brown.

Lavender slowly lifted her hands to the table. Theo could see they were shaking. And her cuts were seeping blood.

"Fucks sake," Theo heard Draco, who was sitting next to him, mumble.

As usual with Draco, the sentiment behind the comment was ambiguous. Theo didn't know whether Draco's exasperation was directed at Alecto's cruelness or at Brown's defiance. Theo had been wondering about Draco's loyalties for some time now. It had only been last year that Theo had forced himself to snicker along with the Malfoy heir as he'd called Hermione Granger a 'mudblood' in their Potions class. Draco had long been indiscriminate with his disdain for Muggle-borns but, for some reason, his vitriol had always seemed to be especially passionate when it came to Granger.

At the beginning of last year Draco, wearing the Dark Mark like a badge of honour, had boasted about being given an important mission by the Dark Lord. However, over the months that followed, the circles under Draco's eyes had darkened, as the whites of them had become redder and his complexion more sallow. Theo had noticed his frequent disappearances during break-times and in the evenings; heard him creeping about at night. And then Draco had incurred the wrath of Potter to such an extent that the Boy-Who-Lived had unleashed an unknown dark curse on him, slicing him open like a drunk butcher.

It hadn't taken much to surmise that Draco's undertaking was likely to be difficult, dangerous, and cause his soul to be torn and tainted when - or if - he performed it.

"What is it? What is it you're doing?" Theo had finally confronted Draco, as he'd heard him shuffle into their dorm at about three o'clock one morning during Spring Term.

"Really none of your fucking business Nott," Draco had spat out before drawing the curtains closed around his bed.

And Theo hadn't asked again because, well, secrets and lies were part of the thread that held the fabric of Slytherin house together, and who was he to start ripping those seams apart?

But when Theo had seen Dumbledore's shattered body at the bottom of the Astronomy Tower, the headmaster's limbs contorted at odd angles, he'd finally known.

Although Draco _hadn't_ been the one to cast the killing curse in the end, Theo thought now as he looked askance at his Slytherin housemate. It seemed Draco had spent last year fighting some kind of internal demons, and that fight still hadn't ceased. Draco used to relish the power his pure-blood status gave him, but this year he wore it with an air of resignation: going through the motions of joining the I.S. and not questioning, but not inciting, hate-fuelled cruelty either. But despite this, Theo knew that Draco would still do anything it took to redeem his parents in the eyes of the Dark Lord. He'd do this out of love for his family and the fierce, almost obsessive loyalty the Malfoys had for each other. It was this that guided Draco's actions; this was Draco's morality.

There was a movement on Theo's other side: Blaise was fidgeting agitatedly and running his hands over his cropped hair. Blaise was also a bit of an enigma, but possibly less so than Draco. When it came to sex and sexuality, for which Blaise was mainly known inside and outside Slytherin house, many had judged him as _a_ moral. Bisexual, promiscuous and into pretty much anything in the bedroom (and out of it), he had effectively shagged his way through the last few years of school, which was evident by the school ties that were hung up on the rail above his bed - a rainbow of green, yellow and blue, with a small smattering of crimson.

'Tie swapping' was somewhat of a ritual at Hogwarts. If an inter-house couple had started dating, they would often swap ties and wear their partner's one, sacrificing house points for uniform violations, with the aim of displaying to the rest of the school their commitment to their relationship. Or, if the 'relationship' had been more casual and 'short term', a tie would often be coveted, usually by boys, as a mark of their 'conquest'.

But this year, Blaise had been surprisingly chaste. When questioned about this, he'd retorted drily: "Having someone suck you off when you might have to curse them the next day kind of dampens your libido."

So even Blaise had limits, it seemed.

And outside of the 'bedroom', Theo was sure by now Blaise's ethics weren't so ambivalent. Theo had seen a streak of compassion in him on more than one occasion - like when Blaise had sworn he'd 'not seen' those 'blood traitors' sneaking around the castle at night, even though they'd been caught by other members of the I.S. moments later, only one corridor away from where Blaise had been patrolling. And those times when Theo had witnessed Blaise asserting his seventh year authority and putting an end to some of the more brutal bullying, under the guise of 'not spilling magical blood'.

Over the weeks since the start of this Merlin-awful school year, Blaise had seemed to turn away from Flint who had been his best mate for the last few years and Draco, in turn, had drifted away from Crabbe and Goyle, and to Theo's surprise they had both seemed to gravitate towards him. The three had spent more time together, unspoken understandings slowly forming between them: that none of them had any real passion to enforce the Carrows' regime; that if any of them were to be called up right now to perform the Cruciatus Curse on Finnegan, none of them would do so with any conviction - none of them would really _mean it_.

"Ah, I think we've found our culprit," Alecto exclaimed now, her voice dripping with triumph. "Miss Brown, please retrieve Mr Flint's wand off the floor, come to the front and kindly return it to him. It will be an excellent chance for another student to practice their Cruciatus skills. Who would like the opportunity?"

As a few hands were raised about the classroom, Theo noticed that Parvati and Longbottom were having a frantic whispering conversation. Longbottom was attempting to hold Parvati's arm down, until she wrestled it free and shot it up in the air. Theo found himself raising his own hand, along with Daphne, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Miss Greengrass," Alecto chose, and Daphne, wearing her ice-queen mask, rose from her seat and walked to the front.

When Brown reached Flint, she tentatively held out his wand to him. He abruptly reached out, glaring at her, grasped her thin wrist in one of his hands, yanked her arm roughly towards him and snatched his wand with his other hand. Brown let out a yelp like a startled animal.

"Can I practice on _her_?" Flint asked, nodding at Brown, his voice cold and hard. Theo knew what that tone meant: Flint was angry. And he wanted revenge.

"No, no. You continue with Mr Finnegan, and Miss Greengrass with Miss Brown."

It only lasted one, maybe one and half minutes.

But Theo knew more than anyone that one minute could feel like an hour. Especially if you're not used to it. Especially if you can't stop the thoughts that you might die from the pain, that quickly fold into desperate _wishes_ for death, to escape how your very bones feel on fire and your blood feels like boiling acid in your veins. Although Theo was sure Daphne was putting her weakest effort in to her curse, Brown's screams still sounded like her insides were being ripped out of her and her skin was being slowly peeled off with a red-hot knife.

Theo averted his eyes, and found them drifting over to Parvati. He couldn't see her face, but noted how her arms were shaking as her hands were griping the edge of her desk so tightly her knuckles had gone white. Something seem to crack in Theo's chest - somewhere near his heart - and he had to quickly smother the anger that started to bubble in him.

When it finally stopped, Alecto addressed Finnegan as he lay trembling on the floor, his muscles occasionally jerking involuntarily.

"Mr Finnegan, if you could kindly re-do your essay using appropriate language by our next lesson, that would _be grand_ as you Irish say."

Theo had to do a kind of audible double-take: had she really said that? Had she really made a facetious joke about Irish vernacular after the kid just got tortured? Psychopathic-sadist says _what?_

xXx

At the end of the lesson, when the students were leaving the Muggle Studies classroom, Flint pushed forcefully passed Theo and strode up to Brown, who was leaning on to Parvati's arm as the two girls made their way down the corridor.

"Hey!" Flint cried as he grabbed out at Brown's arm. The girl automatically flinched away from him as she and Parvati turned to look at their assailant. Longbottom, who was holding up a pale, shaking and dazed looking Finnegan, turned too.

Theo felt the beginnings of a protective rage flutter in him which, if it had been closer to the full moon or if he hadn't taken his suppressant, he wasn't sure if he would have been able to control. He stepped close to Flint, standing by his left shoulder as if he was his wingman, and a group of Slytherins gathered behind them: Daphne, Draco, Blaise and Goyle.

Flint thrust his wand under Brown's chin, forcing her head up. She was still weak and trembling from the Crucio. Parvati brandished her wand at Flint's chest. "Get off her," she demanded fiercely.

Theo caught her eye and shook his head imperceptibly, trying to communicate: _No. Don't. Leave it._

Parvati cautiously lowered her wand, looking wary.

"Nobody disarms me Brown, you _shitty_ little dunglicker!" Flint spat out.

"Marcus mate, we're going to be late for Transfig. The little bitch isn't worth it. She got her lesson," Theo said dispassionately, in a desperate attempt to de-escalate the situation; to get the riled Slytherin away from the mostly-broken Gryffindors.

" _I_ didn't get to teach it to her though, did I?" Flint's anger was like a tightly coiled spring. He looked Brown up and down - a predatory look - and Theo felt a cold shiver prickle at the back of his neck. "When someone disarms me, I make sure they know _never_ to try it again."

'"Marcus," Daphne said softly. She had stepped forward and put a hand gently on Flint's outstretched arm. Again, Theo caught a waft of that scent emanating from her: it was familiar yet not so, and definitely not Daphne's. He could tell that it was a female scent but to his frustration, couldn't place exactly who's it was.

Flint turned to look at Daphne. Her ice-queen mask had been replaced by a coy smile and doe eyes. "Weren't you going to talk me through your latest Quidditch strategies?" Theo had never heard the term 'Quidditch strategies' sound filthy before, but Daphne somehow managed it. He was impressed. "I've got some time now, on the way to Transfig?"

Flint fell - hook, line and sinker. He lowered his wand, leering at Daphne.

"Or later?" Daphne finished innocently.

"Sure. Now's good," Flint drawled. But before he turned to go, he looked intently at Brown again.

"Lavender Brown," he said the words slowly and quietly, as if etching them into his mind. "You better watch your-pretty-little-self."

Then he turned and walked away, followed by the rest of the Slytherins. Theo hovered for a moment, his eyes briefly meeting Parvati's. Her expression was mostly unreadable, except for a hint of something in her eyes - something like _pity_ \- before he abruptly turned and followed his house mates down the hall.

* * *

 **Author's note:** "Is anybody out theeeeeeere?" *Shouts hopefully in to the cyber abyss and hears the echoes reverberate around her*. Lols - sometimes, I have no idea if anybody's reading this. So, at the risk of sounding needy, I really, really, appreciate you comments - even if it's a 'reading that was a tolerable way to spend my time' - I wanna know what you're thinking! It really motivates me and I have no doubt makes me a better writer. Thanks to those who have commented/reviewed/PM'ed me - you are loved.


	22. Chapter 22

**Ch. 22 Daring, Nerve and Chivalry**

 _'"Didn't you hear about ... the kids who tried to steal Gryffindor's sword out of Snape's office at Hogwarts? ... One of the kids who tried to take the sword was Bill's younger sister. She and a couple of friends got into Snape's office and smashed open the glass case where he was apparently keeping the sword. Snape caught them as they were trying to smuggle it down the staircase."'_

\- Dirk Cresswell, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

 **Ginny**

It _had_ been going fairly well.

Ginny, Luna and Neville had arrived at the door of the stairs that led up to the headmaster's office at just before midnight on All Hallows' Eve. They had chosen the thirty first of October because it would be likely that everyone would be out the way, either distracted or exhausted by the celebrations, even the members of the I.S. Additionally, it was tradition for the headmaster to spend the evening with the other teachers, and they knew that Snape, based on his normal routine, would take a nightly beverage just before retiring to bed in his living quarters. They had asked Dobby to spike his drink with a powerful sleeping draught which had been brewed by Terry and Padma.

"Lillium!" Ginny said firmly to the gargoyles.

She was still apprehensive about whether the password would work. Parvati had adamantly refused to tell them exactly how she'd got it, although had repeatedly assured them that it was the right one. Sure enough, the door slid open at the sound of the word, revealing the moving spiral staircase that led up to the headmaster's office. As the three of them stepped on to the stairs and it started twisting slowly upwards, Ginny made a mental note to try and find out more about Parvati's source.

They reversed their disillusionment charms as they stepped in to the dimly lit room. It was different to when Ginny had been there during Dumbledore's time - more austere...sparser. The old headmasters stirred in their portraits as they entered.

"Intruders! Out! Out! Get out I say! How dare you!?" shouted one of the portraits. Ginny looked at the plaque underneath it: _Phineas Nigellus Black_ she read.

Ginny ignored Black's objections and looked up at the portrait of Dumbledore. His eyes were wide and eyebrows raised in surprise, but he didn't say anything.

"There it is," Neville said, with slight awe in his voice. Ginny and Luna followed Neville's gaze to a glass box on a high wooden table, standing off to the side of the room. Inside, the Sword of Gryffindor sparkled in the light. The three walked over to it and surrounded the box, examining it. Ginny could see what looked like a complicated gold lock on the side.

"It looks...bigger...close up," Luna said wonderingly.

They hadn't really planned this part in detail. They had been hoping that a mixture of spell work and the fact there were two Gryffindors amongst them would mean they'd be able to get the sword out the box fairly easily.

'Alohomoro! _'_ Neville exclaimed, brandishing his wand at the gold lock. Nothing happened.

Ginny raised her eyebrows at Neville, unimpressed by his use of the basic first year spell.

"It was worth a try," Neville mumbled defensively, shrugging.

"Finestra!" Ginny said the glass-shattering spell loudly, flicking her wand with a sharp motion at the box's transparent casing. Again, the box and sword remained motionless.

"Try Accio - it might come if one of you summon it," Luna suggested.

"Accio sword!" Ginny and Neville incantated together. The sword remained still.

"Bomdarda maxima!" Luna said firmly but calmly. It was surprising and strange, hearing Luna cast such a destructive spell. The three watched as the table splintered, cracked and then collapsed in to a pile of wooden shards on the floor. The glass box fell with it, but annoyingly remained in perfect condition.

"Looks like it's well protected," Neville remarked grimly.

"Reducto!" Ginny yelled. The glass seemed to shake a little but the sword remained still and the glass undamaged.

"Incendio!" shouted Neville this time. The wooden remains of the table burst into flames, although the glass itself seemed to repel the fire.

"Aguamenti!" Luna barked and a jet of water burst from her wand, dousing the blaze.

"Confringo!" Ginny shouted and even more ferocious flames burst up from the wood this time.

"Aguamenti!" They all cried at once this time, and the wood was drenched with water from their three wands.

"Nice one," Ginny said appreciatively. She'd been a little shocked at the fierceness of the blaze she'd conjured. Frustratingly though, the box had, again, remained invincible to the fire.

"Deprimo!"

"Expulso!"

As they continued to try various spells for several long minutes, Ginny started to grow increasingly exasperated.

"Cistem aperio!" Luna exclaimed hopefully, after about five minutes. Nothing happened.

The three friends finally faltered, out of ideas. Ginny eyed the destruction they'd caused. It looked like they'd been a localised fire, explosion and flood all at once. Except the glass box remained infuriatingly unspoilt.

"Merlin's bollocks," Ginny said crossly. "I thought, with a combination of Gryffindor and spell work, we'd manage to get it out of the case!"

"We shouldn't be too much longer really," Luna said, glancing up at the clock above Snape's desk. They had worried about the portraits' ability to inform Snape of what they were doing and this risk, combined with the possibility that the sleeping draught might not work as well as planned, had led them to put a time limit on their endeavour.

Ginny looked up at the clock too and her gaze fell to the portrait of Dumbledore underneath it. His eyes met hers and he smiled conspiratorially at her. Ginny didn't know why she hadn't thought of it before: maybe he could help them?

"Hi Professor," Ginny greeted, walking to the portrait.

"Miss Weasley," Dumbledore nodded his head in acknowledgement, his eyes twinkling.

"Professor - the sword - you left it to Harry didn't you? In your will? We're trying to get it to him."

"Hmm...and taking quite a risk in the process I see. I would really rather you didn't put yourselves in harm's way like this. Perhaps you should abandon your venture and return to your dormitories."

"But - Harry will need it - to fight Voldemort. That must be why you left it to him? He needs to have it!" Neville insisted who, with Luna, had come to stand beside Ginny.

"I do not disagree, but I think you should leave that to others to organise. The things we need have a way of finding us in the end."

"How's Harry going to get it if it's kept here with Snape?" Ginny asked, frustrated at Dumbledore's lack of help and seemingly pointless platitudes.

Dumbledore paused, studying Ginny with a sad expression.

"Well...I suppose what I will say Miss Weasley, is that it has already presented itself to Harry once...think about how and why that was..."

"What does that mean? It came to him in the Chamber of Secrets," Ginny retorted, puzzled.

"Yes!" Luna exclaimed. She was the most animated Ginny had ever heard her. "When Harry had shown himself to be _worthy_ of it! By going in to the Chamber - by putting himself in danger to save someone's life - when he showed the qualities of a true _Gryffindor!_ 'Their daring, nerve and chivalry set Gryffindors apart!'" Luna ended by quoting the Sorting Hat, looking pointedly at Ginny and Neville.

"Well...we've snuck in to a headmaster's - a _Death Eater's_ \- office to steal a coveted magical artefact," Ginny said impatiently, "Isn't that daring enough?"

"Yes, but I think to get in to the box...spells are too _easy_ ," Luna said, looking contemplatively back at the sword.

Understanding suddenly dawned on Ginny. She thrust her wand into Luna's hand, marched up to the sword's box, leant down, pulled her left arm back and put all her weight behind it as she smashed her fist in to the glass. Pain like Ginny had never felt before - even worse than the pain from Alecto's curse - coursed through her hand.

"Fuck!" she cried out at the shock of it.

But amazingly, the glass had splintered slightly: a few tiny cracks had formed where her fist had struck it.

Seeming to understand as well, Neville crouched down by the box, raised his hand and also hit the glass violently with his fist. He let out a grunt of pain, but to Ginny's delight, the cracks in the glass grew, radiating out from the point where Ginny had originally hit it. Luna tried then, and it was again odd to see Luna do something so...physically aggressive, but Ginny could tell she put all her strength behind her punch. Disappointingly, it had no effect on the box whatsoever.

"It doesn't work for me. It knows I'm not a Gryffindor. I think it just has to be you two," Luna said apologetically.

Ginny looked at Neville and an unspoken understanding passed between them: they both knew what they needed to do. Buoyed by the damage they had already inflicted on the box, Ginny enthusiastically hit the casing again, and the glass splintered further. She let out another cry of pain as her hand started to bleed heavily. Ginny and Neville proceeded to take turns punching and hitting the glass. As the cracks grew larger and deeper, so did the cuts and bruises on their hands and when tears of pain started to run down their faces and their blood started to coat the glass in red, Luna reached out a hand stop Ginny take her turn for the sixth time.

"Let me try a healing spell," Luna suggested, frowning anxiously in concern.

"No - we have to show _valour_ \- that would be like cheating," Ginny hissed bitterly through clenched teeth.

And so they continued, as skin started to peel from their hands, exposing the pink bone of their knuckles, which lead them to use their elbows to give their hands a rest. Eventually, the glass appeared completely shattered but still maintained the rectangular shape of the box. Ginny was taking her shoes and socks of, planning to use her feet next, when Neville bought his balled up hand down on the glass and the casing finally fell apart, scattering at their feet, leaving the sword exposed and free.

"Well done Neville! Well done Ginny!" Luna cried.

Then the sword moved of its own accord and floated up through the air towards Neville, hovering in front of him expectantly. Neville reached out and grasped the handle with a bloodied hand, wincing as he did so, as they all rose to their feet. The three friends stood for a moment, taking in, with relief and triumph, the fact they had finally claimed the sword. Luna studied Neville thoughtfully.

"It suits you Neville. I think you could do great things with that sword," she said wistfully.

"Right. Well, let's stop talking about what great things you think Neville can do with his _sword_ Luna, and get out the hell of here," Ginny said drily.

They made their way to the door but just before they exited, Ginny turned back to the portrait of Dumbledore. Even though he had initially irritated her, she appreciated that he had given them the hint that had led to their success. And she understood that, ultimately, he'd just wanted them to keep safe. It reminded her of her mother.

"Thank you Professor," Ginny said to the portrait, and Dumbledore smiled at her sadly.

"You have shown much courage tonight, all three of you. And wisdom, of course, Miss Lovegood. But remember children: courage comes to us in different forms, as do the battles we find ourselves fighting."

"Right. Well...bye then..." Neville said uncertainly, still brandishing the sword in his hand, and the three of them turned and started hurrying down the stairs.

They were nearly at the bottom of the steps when Ginny, who's eyes had been focused on her footing, ran into something big, black and solid. With her heart jumping in her mouth, she looked up and saw with horror that it hadn't been some kind of magical barrier that had appeared, but a person. Luna and Neville came to an abrupt halt behind her as the three friends looked up aghast at Professor Snape, whose face was twisted in an awful mixture of fury and disbelief.

Yeah. It _had_ been going fairly well.

* * *

A/N: Your thoughts and reviews are cherished and treasured.


	23. Tears

**Ch. 23 Tears**

'"Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers, and they make highly faithful pets."'

\- Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

 **Ginny**

Before Ginny could recover from her shock, Snape made a sweeping motion with his arm, disarming the three students and catching their wands neatly in his free hand.

" _This_ is what will happen now," Snape's words were slow and deliberate but Ginny could hear the fury simmering under them. "One: Longbottom, you will give me the Sword of Gryffindor that you appear to be holding in your hand. Two: you will all turn around and ascend back up these stairs to my office in an orderly manner. And three: once there, you will give me a thorough explanation of what in _Salazar's_ name you think you were doing tonight!"

And so, once Neville had reluctantly handed Snape the sword, the three of them turned and climbed back up the stairs to the headmaster's office.

"Stand at my desk and do not move!" Snape ordered when they entered.

They shuffled to stand at Snape's desk and Ginny subtly looked up at the portrait of Dumbledore. He was gazing down at them with raised eyebrows, his expression solemn. Snape strode over to the pile of smashed glass and wood, studying at it with an unreadable expression. Ginny and Neville's blood was splattered over the scene like some kind of macabre fairy dust. The headmaster then marched back behind his desk and placed the sword and their wands down in front of him, whilst keeping his own one grasped in his hand.

"How long do you think I was Potion Master at this school?!" he demanded angrily.

Ginny was taken aback by the randomness of the question, and it seemed that Luna and Neville were too because none of them responded.

"Well. I will tell you it was _many_ years. Did you really _think_ that I would not be able to tell if a drink I was about to consume has been contaminated with a sleeping draught?! A fairly advanced sleeping draught I will grant you but, in these times, did you not think that a person of my importance would check their food and drink thoroughly before consuming it? _Foolish_!" Snape was shouting now and Ginny flinched. She didn't think she'd ever seen him so enraged. "Why do you _insist_ on trying to be heroes? Do you _want_ to be punished, even with the severity to which this school is now being run?" Snape asked the last question despairingly, almost like he'd wished they hadn't been caught. "Miss Lovegood: you will explain to me what you were doing here."

"Oh, I'm sure you've worked that out professor. You're clever enough, sir. We were stealing the Sword of Gryffindor," Luna answered calmly.

"No, we weren't," Neville spat out. "We were taking what's rightfully ours! It shouldn't be here. It shouldn't be here in the office of a traitorous _Death Eater_!"

"He trusted you," Ginny joined in bitterly, gesturing to the portrait of Dumbledore. "And you killed him!"

Snape turned to look up at his predecessors painting and Ginny was sure she saw a pointed look cross Dumbledore's face, ever so briefly, and Snape give a very short nod as if responding. He turned back to them, looking Ginny steadily in the face.

"Are you quite finished stating the obvious Weasley?" Snape snarled. "Yes, I killed him. Which is why you really should be more wary of me, and of the regime that is in place at this school, than you obviously are."

He closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

"Your punishment: you are forbidden from being anyway except classes, the Great Hall at mealtimes, the library and your respective house towers without express permission. If you are found in the grounds or corridors when you are not going between these places you will be expelled. Hogsmead's weekends are obviously banned, as are all other privileges. But that is just the least of it. I will inform you of a more proportionate punishment in due course."

"H -how long for sir?" Neville asked tentatively.

"Indefinitely. Oh, and Miss Weasley? You will also be banned from flying and will be taken off the Quidditch team."

Ginny felt like she'd been hit in the stomach by a rogue bludger. So much so she couldn't even form words to respond to Snape. Her mind reeled as Filch escorted her and Neville back to Gryffindor Tower. Quidditch matches had recently become like a fight to the death. Hooch had clearly been told to loosen up her refereeing to such an extent it was basically redundant, making matches a free-for-all. Ginny had been hospitalised twice already, once with a broken arm and another time with a fractured rib. Still, flying and Quidditch were like an extension of her very being. They were woven in her soul and had been some of the few things that had kept her sane in the last couple of months. The thought of suffering through the Carrows' Hogwarts without being able to fly was almost intolerable...

* * *

A week later, in the early evening, Ginny, Luna and Neville made their way down the hillside to Hagrid's hut. Their 'more proportionate' punishment, as it turned out, was to spend a night in the Forbidden Forest. Wandless, which was tricky. But with Hagrid and, Ginny was hoping, his pink umbrella.

It was something that the Carrows and Snape probably thought terrified them. However, Luna was more than comfortable in the forest - she had spent countless afternoons wandering through the trees, searching for rare creatures and feeding the Thestrals. And Ginny knew that Harry and Ron had gone into the forest back in their _first_ year and survived it. So she headed to Hagrid's hut that evening feeling confident - even excited, because it was the first opportunity to speak to Hagrid since the summer. If anything, Snape's punishment had done her a favour.

As they approached Hagrid's home, an icy chill seeped through Ginny's muscles and right in to the core of her bones. She looked up at the darkening sky and saw the black figures of several Dementors circling directly above them.

"They're getting closer," she stated gravely. The Dementors had hovered on the boundaries of the school since the start of term but, over time, had gradually encroached further in to the grounds.

"Yeah…" Neville agreed grimly. "Wonder how long it'll be until they're roaming the castle corridors. This school's getting more like Azkaban every day."

When the three met Hagrid, exchanged greetings and started to walk in to the forest, Ginny noted that he did, in fact, have his umbrella brandished in his hand. It was somewhat reassuring - one broken wand was better than none.

"Snape's ordered me to go to a particular clearing," Hagrid informed them as they strode along the well worn path that led in to the forest.

"Why?" Luna asked.

"Wants me t'bring back some herbs that only grow in tha' specific spot and can only be picked at sundown during the eleventh month. Which is now. Needs 'em for the potions store."

"Don't suppose there's any Murtlaps there we can catch? Or dittany we can forage?" Neville asked drily.

"Nah. If you'd been listening in class you'd know Murtlaps only live along certain coastlines. And dittany only grows on the Greek Islands, you see -"

"Hagrid, have you heard from the Order? We've heard nothing all term?" Ginny blurted out. She'd been desperate to ask Hagrid about any news since she'd found out she'd be permitted to speak him.

"Yeah. Heard a bit. But it's becomin' more an' more dangerous gettin' information in and out of Hogwarts. It's like they want you students - and even the teachers - to be as cut off as possible…did you 'ear about the break in at the ministry?"

"Yeah, didn't that happen ages ago? I think my Gran wrote in a letter there was some 'minor occurrence' there," Neville said.

"That weren't no minor occurrence. Your Gran was either tryin t'give you a hint or her letter was censored Neville. That were Harry, Ron and Hermione who broke in to the ministry. Caused right havoc they did, only it was covered up."

"What?! Why? What were they trying to do?" Ginny demanded.

"We're not entirely sure, although we're pretty certain they was looking for somethin' specific."

"And d'you think they got it?" Neville asked.

"We dunno I'm afraid. Haven't heard from them since."

"You've heard nothing?" Ginny asked despondently, her heart sinking to somewhere near her feet.

"Nothin'," Hagrid confirmed gravely.

"Do you have any other news Hagrid?" Luna asked politely.

"Well…Ted Tonks has gone on the run. Along with a lot of others…" And as they walked deeper in to the forest, Hagrid continued to tell them about the Snatchers, about Voldemort's growing army of Death Eaters, and about the Wandless: witches and wizards who had been branded 'Mudbloods' and had had their wands taken from them. He told them about the trials, the imprisonments, the deaths.

"And then there's…" Hagrid grunted uncomfortably. "The 'Re-parenting Programme.'"

"The what?" Ginny snapped.

"Children - young purebloods or halfbloods - of parents who the ministry 'ave deemed 'unfit' to parent - because they're not teachin' their kids properly about all the pureblood nonsense…they're…they're taken away to live with other families - mostly Death Eater families. Well, that's what they say - but we know it's jus' parents that You-Know-Who's got angry with - it's his way of gettin' back at them, harming the people they love the most. See…some of these Death Eater homes are probably not the nicest places for these young kiddies to be, if y'know what I mean…take Macnair, for instance - he has a particular liking for teenage girls so You-Know-Who's sent a couple his way…' Hagrid shuddered. 'I dread t'think…'

'That's…oh Merlin…' Ginny couldn't form the words to describe how she felt about the 'Re-parenting Programme'.

"That's fucking sick, that's what that is," Neville stated angrily.

The group continued to walk in gloomy silence.

"I can't believe how much has been going on and we didn't know," Ginny murmured after a few minutes. "The Prophet hardly has anything in it anymore except Pureblood propaganda…I had to stop reading it, it just started to piss me off."

"Yeah…that's not much good for news…but then there's always Potterwatch," Hagrid suggested.

"Potter-what?" Neville and Ginny asked together.

"Potterwatch," Hagrid repeated and continued to tell them about the pirate radio station. "And the Quibbler o' course" - he gestured to Luna - "I tried to get you a copy but they've put a trace on it so thought it were just too risky."

"Yes, before I left for Hogwarts, Dad said he'd try and get me copies but only if he thought it was safe enough…and I've never received one so I assume…it must be too dangerous." Luna reflected.

When they finally reached the clearing, Hagrid strode to its centre and dumped his bag. "Right. I'm going to gather this plant. You three can put the tents up and gather wood for the fire whilst it's still light," Hagrid said and bumbled off to the edge of the clearing.

"I can't believe how much we didn't know," Ginny said again as she and Luna pulled the tents out of Hagrid's bag and Neville started picking up fallen twigs for firewood. ''We need to do more to get information…sometimes not knowing is worse than bad news…"

"We could get a radio and try and tune into Potterwatch? In the R.O.R?" Luna suggested.

As the tents were erected and the pile of firewood grew, the three continued to plan how they could get more information in to Hogwarts and be more in touch with the outside world.

"Although there's probably stuff even the Order doesn't know. Like what Voldemort's _really_ up to and what's happening deep in the Death Eater circles," Neville huffed dejectedly as he dumped the last armful of branches down onto the pile of wood.

As the sun began to set through the trees, Hagrid ceased his foraging and the four settled on some fallen logs that were arranged around the now burning fire. A peace descended over the group. They sat in comfortable silence as they waited for their dinner to cook, the only sounds that of the fire crackling and the occasional rustling of an animal in the trees.

It was then that they heard it.

It was a unique, lamenting cry that Ginny knew she had heard before, but couldn't place. The sound seemed to travel right through her skin, muscles and tissue, in to the very centre of her, cradling the pain and fear she'd felt for weeks now but had mostly kept squashed away. Cradling it and carrying it outside of herself and turning it magically in to a song that echoed throughout the forest clearing. The group stilled, entranced by the aching beauty of the sound.

Then a flash of red and gold flew in to the clearing and Ginny finally recalled where she'd heard the sound before: in the cold of the chamber. And on the night that Dumbledore had died.

"Fawkes!" Ginny exclaimed as the phoenix landed majestically on a tree stump not far from them.

"He's made his nest further up in the mountains. Don't think he could bear to go further from his old home, not after Dumbledore died," Hagrid informed them. "He often flies down, when I'm in this part of the forest. To say 'ello."

"He's beautiful," Luna said as she stepped forward tentatively towards the bird. "Hello Fawkes. You're really very handsome," The phoenix bowed his head in acknowledgment. "You must miss Dumbledore. We miss him too. We're trying to do our best to honour his memory."

"Tha' you are. Just wish you weren't getting in so much trouble doin' so. Awful what they did to your hands," Hagrid grumbled.

Fawkes looked pointedly at Luna's hand. Then, unexpectedly, he flew up and landed on Luna's shoulder. After a moment, Ginny saw, as she had seen all those years ago in the chamber, heavy tears fall from the phoenix's eye and splash on to the cuts on Luna's hand.

"Oh! That feels sooo much better! Thank you Fawkes!" Luna exclaimed sweetly, staring in wonder at her hand.

"Phoenix tears have very powerful healing powers. But the Phoenix needs to offer them first. They can't be forced, otherwise they don't work properly yer see," Hagrid said excitedly.

Fawkes looked over at Ginny and cocked his head, as if appraising her. She wondered if the bird recognised her from all those years ago. Then he abruptly spread his wing and flew over to Ginny and landed on her knee, where her cursed hand was resting.

Fawkes shed further tears that landed in fat drops on Ginny's wound. Instantly, the redness of the words thinned and faded to a pinky-white colour. But more amazingly, a tingling, soothing sensation travelled from her hand, up her arm and rippled through her head. Incredibly, Ginny felt the dark magic that had tethered her wound to her mind break down, crumble and fade away.

The relief Ginny felt almost made her cry her own tears, but she held them back, smiling at the bird in appreciation. Then Fawkes flew to Neville and the group watched as the phoenix's tears healed Neville's cursed cuts too.

"Let's test it!" Neville suggested, after gushing his thanks to the phoenix, and proceeded to let rip a succession of expletives against the Carrows. He looked expectantly down at his hand. "Nothing!" he exclaimed, looking up at the group triumphantly.

"My dad is the best, most truthful newspaper editor in the magical world!" Luna said firmly. After a moment, she looked round up at them, grinning. "It feels normal!"

Ginny reeled through all the possible sentiments that she knew would be deemed 'anti-Voldemort', and decided on the one that she knew reflected the thing that Voldemort hated the most. She whispered to herself: "I love Harry Potter."

And felt nothing. Well, she felt many things in a way, but no painful burning or stinging. Finally, after the murtlap and the dittany, _finally_ something had fully healed their wounds.

"He's givin' you more tears! We need to put them in somethin'!" Hagrid cried, gesturing to Fawkes who was continuing to cry the magical healing elixir.

Luna quickly transfigured a bottle from one of their drinking flasks and held it out to Fawkes.

"For the others, tha is," Hagrid informed them, somewhat unnecessarily, as they all watched the bottle fill with the phoenix's tears.

* * *

"I got it! I got it!" Seamus yelled from where he was hunched over the magical wireless they'd set up in the room of requirement, leading a group of D.A. members to scrabble hastily to the radio.

"That's Lee Jordan!" Neville exclaimed. "And that's Fred Weasley...or is it George?"

It had been three weeks since their failed attempt at stealing the sword, and Ginny, Luna and Neville had, of course, defied Snape's endless bans and prohibitions to ensure they continued the D.A. meetings. Ginny had had to give up Quidditch though, there was no getting round that, and Seamus had taken her place as Chaser.

"It's Fred," Ginny confirmed in response to Neville's query. She felt her insides twist as she heard her brother's voice. Then her heart nearly stopped and a silence descended over the group as he started to read out a list of the dead. It only seemed to carry on beating when Fred reached the end of the list and Ginny hadn't recognised any of the names. A tense silence continued amongst the group. People looked subtly at each other, waiting to hear if anyone had known any of the victims.

"The Davidson's were neighbours of ours. They were both Muggle-born - the mum and dad. Fred listed four of them. That's the whole family. The youngest daughter was only eight,' Lavender said dully, looking in to the middle distance, her eyes glazed. Seamus reached out and squeezed her hand and Lavender's head jerked towards it, as if startled. Then she looked up at Seamus and gave him a sad smile. He didn't remove his hand from hers.

It had taken Seamus several days to recover from the Cruciatus Curse, but Lavender much less so. It had seemed that the strength of Daphne's curse hadn't, for some reason, been nearly as strong as Flint's. But Fawkes' tears had worked on all of their 'blood traitor' wounds, and given them a much needed morale boost. Lavender and Parvati had taught them all a cosmetic charm that still made the wound look red and aggravated, to stop the Carrows and Snape becoming suspicious.

After a few moments of silence, Ginny spoke.

"I can't believe we didn't know about Potterwatch until now!" she said, repeating the sentiments she'd voiced in the forest. "We've been at Hogwarts over two months and we've almost no bloody idea what's happening in the outside world, except what we can read between the lines of the Prophet!"

"I've realised the letters my Gran sends are always censored. At least some of the writing's always been disappeared. I'm surprised they're even letting me get her letters at all," Neville commented grimly.

"Same with our parents'," Padma said, exchanging a look with Parvati. Various members of the group also murmured that their mail also seemed to have undergone some careful editing before it reached them.

"But we need to know what's going on!" Ginny insisted.

"Knowledge is power," Parvati mumbled, a distant look in her eyes.

"Exactly! We've got Potterwatch now, and I suppose it's not too long until the Christmas holidays when we can find out stuff from our relatives...but it's shitty feeling so isolated whilst we're here..." Neville said.

"My parents are likely to tell me nothing, even if they know anything! My mum likes to pretend none of it is even happening!" Lavender reproached.

"Yeah...my parents still treat me like I'm five...I don't know if I'll get much information from them...but my brothers might spill something..." Ginny said hopefully.

"Bet the Slytherins know loads...bet their post isn't being censored," Hannah grumbled.

"They're probably the ones doing the censoring!" Terry retorted.

"Yeah, some of the I.S. families are well cozy with V-Voldemort…Merlin knows what _they_ know!" Michael added. Ginny noted with respect that it was the first time the Ravenclaw had said the dark wizard's name.

"What kind of info would we want from the Slytherins? If we could get it anyway?" Parvati asked quietly.

Ginny shrugged. "Voldemort has a growing army of Death Eaters apparently. So who the new members are…Some of them might be working for him in secret. Who he favours and who he doesn't, because it will help the Order to know which ones he's given more power to, or tasks…What's really going on at the Ministry - how much control Voldemort really has of it. What he's actually up to - because he's up to something, he's not just going after Harry…what's really going on with the disappearances of Muggle-borns...loads of stuff!" Ginny finished.

"Right," Parvati murmured, with hint of something like cunning in her eyes. Ginny didn't have time to wonder about how unusually thoughtful and quiet she was because right then Neville cajoled them all up to start practicing stunning spells.

* * *

 **Parvati**

Parvati thought much more carefully about where they could meet this time because she knew Theo had been right before: the Potions classroom was far too risky. So she decided on somewhere else: the place she'd gone with Dean, the place she knew Ginny and Michael went back when they were dating, as well as countless other Hogwarts couples, no doubt. Although it was probably not being used as much this term. Because not many students would be being as stupidly reckless as she was.

This time the parchment she slipped in to Theo's bag was about pickled Murtlap tentacles and, when revelio'ed, transformed into the words:

 _Meet me at the place they used to fly. 2am, Tuesday._

She didn't sign it with her initial this time because she was sure he would know it would be from her.

* * *

A/N: Reviews are loved. Truly. Madly. Deeply. Thank you.


	24. A Lying Trust

**Ch. 24 A Lying Trust**

 _"The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters."_

\- Sirius Black, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

 **Parvati**

The days had gotten shorter and they'd had the first snowfall of winter by the time the early hours of Tuesday morning came around. Parvati rose quietly from her bed at ten minutes to two. Using the moonlight that was shining through the cracks in the curtains, she was able to slip into a lamb's wool jumper-dress - the first thing she pulled out of her draw - thigh high woollen socks and her old dragon-skin boots. The boots were worn and tattered from many winters of use, but still protected her feet from the worst of the biting cold.

She disillusioned herself, a spell they had all practiced rigorously in D.A. meetings and one that she was becoming proficient at, and made her way through the castle and out through one of the rarely used exits. The air assaulted her face, wet and bitterly cold, and threatened to seep through the cracks in her Hippogriff-leather lined coat in a matter of seconds.

The moonlight reflected off the snow, creating an eerie light that guided Parvati's way, as she hurried down one of the less worn paths, around the back of the castle, to a valley where, years ago, there used to be a Quidditch pitch. Then the mountain by the side of it had started to crumble, sending cascades of rock down onto the seats and it had been considered too dangerous to keep using. The stands had been taken down and the site abandoned. But off to the side, in the shelter of a hill, was a now disused broom shed.

As Parvati approached it, she noted how the snow on the path leading up to its entrance looked smooth and untouched. Hence, she anticipated that Theo was yet to arrive. If he was going to come at all, of course. She entered the shed hastily, relieved to escape the chill outside.

"It's fecking _freezing_ ," Parvati mumbled to herself, gently stamping the snow off her boots.

"Fecking?" The mocking voice came out of the darkness, startling her.

"Lumos," she said instantly, and in the light of her wand she saw Theo leaning against an old broomstick work bench.

"It's kind of an Irish thing. Picked it up from Seamus," she said without thinking, then chided herself for explaining herself to him. "I didn't think you were here yet. No footprints."

She couldn't see his face properly in the dim light but caught the glint of his eyes, assessing her.

"Covering Charm," Theo responded, by way of explanation. "You did use one yourself, didn't you?"

Parvati realised, too late, how sensible that would have been. Her lack of response was admission enough of her lack of prudence. Theo let out a derisive chuckle and rolled his eyes. Those beautiful, piercing blue eyes. Merlin, he was annoying her already. She'd felt quite self-assured when she'd been on her way to the broom shed, but being in his presence again had triggered an uncomfortable, confusing shift in her body and mind. Why did he make her feel so clumsy, so stupid?

"Makes the Disillusionment Charm a bit redundant, doesn't it?" he asked drily.

"Oh!" Parvati reversed the charm she'd forgotten about. She involuntarily shivered from the cold and Theo frowned in irritation.

"Incendio," he murmured and a small blue fire lit up just beside the workbench. The room was flooded with a blue, ethereal glow and Parvati gratefully felt the heat of the flames.

"Thanks," she found herself saying as she unconsciously moved closer to the fire. Closer to him. She pushed her hood down and undid the buttons of her coat, because her mother's words - 'you won't feel the benefit when you go outside again' - were running through her mind.

He was watching her with his usual blank expression. But Parvati had started to believe that Theo's cold mask was just that - a mask - and that actually there was a myriad of hidden thoughts and feelings going on behind it. And for some reason, a desire had grown in Parvati to try and crack open Theo's façade, to unveil the secrets behind it.

"What do you want this time, Patil?" Theo's icy voice cut through her thoughts.

She inhaled, as if bracing herself. She thought that there was no easy way of asking for what she had come for, so she may as well get straight to the point.

"We - I - need information."

"I figured. What about?" he replied unhesitatingly.

"What's going on outside the castle. From - from a Death Eater perspective. What's happening in the inner circle around You-know-Who. What he - what You-Know-Who's really up to," and as she said it, she again felt the absurdity of what she was doing. "I know it's a lot to ask so if you can't or don't want to say then that's fine and we can pretend this never happened," she finished in a rush.

There was a pause as he continued to stare at her, his face as unchanging as marble.

"That is a lot to ask," he said quietly.

"I know. I mean, I don't even know if you know that stuff -"

"Oh, I know," he deadpanned.

"Right," Parvati replied, and her eyes flitted down to his left forearm, as she wondered how much he knew, wondered how much he was a part of the 'inner circle' she'd referred to.

There was another pause.

"And what do I get this time?" His voice was low and hard.

And, although it pained Parvati to admit it to herself, the question had been what she'd been wanting to hear.

"The same as last time?" She asked, hating herself for sounding so uncertain. _Where did her Gryffindor go when she was with him?_

Theo scoffed disdainfully.

"You earned a password with a kiss, Patil," Theo pushed himself up from the workbench, taking unhurried steps towards her. "I think the stakes are a bit higher this time...what's my reward for disclosing some very, very sensitive information, do you think?"

As he moved closer to her, Parvati saw him clearly for the first time since entering the shed, and uninhibited part of her, the part that submitted to her base instincts, wanted to say _'Anything, you can have anything - all of me'_. But, of course, she managed to bite that back.

He was still walking slowly towards her and she felt her back come up against the wooden wall of the shed. He was unrelenting in his advance, moving within just an inch or so from her. And she thought about what she wanted to do with him, but which wouldn't be offering him 'too much'.

"You can touch me," she managed to say. As she said it, as she thought about what that might be like, a warmth flooded through her and she knew he would be able to see her cheeks flush.

He smiled, a strange, almost melancholic smile.

"Where?" he murmured, his voice barely audible, as his eyes scanned her up and down. She found her body responding to his gaze. Her breathing quickened, her mouth was becoming dry, muscles tensed throughout her body whilst others seemed to soften. She swallowed.

"Anywhere." For once, her voice remained steady. Firm. Because she meant it.

 **Theo**

"Deal," Theo responded readily, because since the moment she'd entered the shed - even before he saw her, just hearing her voice, knowing she was there, alone with him - he'd been desperate, desperate to touch her, to taste her again.

His lips were on hers in an instant and, although they'd only kissed twice before, it felt surprisingly, deliciously natural. He felt her hands reach out to grasp at his hair as he cupped a hand on her jaw, moving his fingers around to stroke the nape of her neck. He bit gently down onto her lower lip, hearing with delight a quiet whimper escape her mouth.

Fuck, he loved the noises she made.

Encouraged, he bit down harder and moved his mouth to her neck, branding her again with what he knew would emerge as a rainbow of bruises - grey, blue, deep purple. As he did so, he slipped his a hand inside her coat and stroked firmly down from just below her breast to the to the top of her thigh and up again, just wanting to feel the curves of her, and she let out a stifled moan.

His cock, which had started twitching at the time they had begun exchanging words, was ragingly hard now, demanding to feel something against it and so he instinctively pressed it against her. She seemed to angle her thigh in response and gently pushed in it, which caused him to growl in to her neck.

And then her hand was there, surprisingly boldly, pressing against his erection through his jeans, causing his breath to hitch in his throat. But that hadn't been the agreement, not _her_ touching _him_ , because that would mean him potentially losing control with her, which could never happen. He grasped a hold of her wrist and shoved her hand away from him.

"Play _nicely_ ," he drawled in her ear.

She whimpered in response and, as if in punishment, he relinquished her hand and reached up and squeezed her breast hard, pinching her nipple mercilessly through the fabric of her jumper. Or dress? Or whatever it was she was wearing. She made a kind of keening sound he hadn't heard her make before.

His hands moved down to her legs and he hitched up the bottom of her jumper/dress thing, stroking her thighs, feeling the scratchy texture of the woollen socks that encased them, moving upwards until he felt the delicious, smooth, soft feel of bare skin. They were kissing again now and as his hands moved around to squeeze both her arse cheeks, under her dress but over her knickers, she moaned into the kiss, sending vibrations ricocheting around his tongue and down the back of his throat.

She had reached her arms up so they were resting on his chest; he had felt the weight of her body increasingly lean into him. He moved his mouth from hers to look at her, to take all of her in. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted and her cheeks flushed a deep red on her dark skin. Her breathing was quick and heavy. It was the most erotic thing he had ever seen.

Slowly, he moved a hand around to her front, then gently down between her legs, which parted as he lightly glided his fingers over her underwear. She let out a keening whimper as he felt how wet she was, even over her knickers. The feel of them made him groan in to her neck. He knew she'd wanted this of course, had seen it in her eyes and had smelt it, but it was something else to feel it. His cock strained in his trousers. He wanted her so much he ached with it.

As they started to kiss again, tongues desperately moving against each other, he hooked his thumbs over the edge of her knickers to pull them down and, with the help of her eagerly moving body, they dropped to the floor. His hand was shaking slightly as he moved it back between her legs and he began to lightly stroke there. She was so, so wet. He moved his fingers gently to her clit, then away and back again. Tantalising. Teasingly.

He tried to steady his breath and gather his thoughts because he needed to think clearly in order to do what he was planning on doing next. Moving his lips to her ear, he began to speak.

"You wanted to know about the Death Eaters," he whispered as his fingers moved towards her opening, pressing slightly - barely there - before moving away again. She moaned louder, in recognition of his words or because of what his fingers were doing, he wasn't sure. "The Malfoys are small fry now." His fingers grazed her clit again, encircling it, spending a bit more time on it this time. "Since Draco fucked up killing Dumbledore." His other hand went up to squeeze her breast again. She whimpered.

"The Dark Lord's made their mansion his base. Although he's spending a lot of time abroad. I don't know why, but it's like he's looking for something." Theo was making every effort to keep his voice steady as he moved a finger ever so slightly inside her.

She arched her back, pushing her hips towards him, and moved her head to look at him, her eyes wide. There was a glazed look of lost and need in them and he wondered how much of what he was saying she was actually taking in, but he carried on anyway, moving his mouth to her ear again as she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against his shoulder.

"I think he's looking for something ancient, because he keeps asking my father about old dark magic, and magical artefacts." His fingers reached her clit again and he applied more pressure this time, increasing the speed as his fingers moved rhythmically over it.

Then her moans formed a barely audible word. "Theo..."

It was the first time he'd heard her say his name - his given name - and she'd said it in a way that he'd never heard anyone say his name before. It shocked and stilled him. It was like she'd reached a hand inside him, cupped it around his heart and gently squeezed, and it caused him to withdraw his hand from her completely.

"Don't stop," Parvati said with a surprisingly hard edge to her voice, making it sound like a demand. Her words quickened his heart and stiffened his cock even more, if that were possible.

"Excuse me?" he murmured tauntingly. She looked at him, her expression a mixture of defiance and desperation. "Say that again," he continued, his breath hot in her ear. "I like hearing you _beg_."

He said it because he wanted her to remember how much she wanted this. And that none of this was under duress at all.

"Don't stop. Please," she repeated, her eyes boring in to his.

And so his hand returned between her legs, his fingers gently stroking back and forth.

"People are scared...even people that used to defy him...because he has complete control of the Ministry now..." As he spoke, he continued to experiment with speed and pressure, learning what she liked, dipping a finger deeper and deeper inside her, and then eventually, two. "And because of policies like the Re-Parenting Programme...Dolohov and Macnair..." Fuck, she felt so good - so tight, so wet - and he wanted to tell her how lovely, how beautiful, she felt. The words sat on his tongue but he swallowed them back.

Instead, he slowly spilled Death Eater secrets into her ear, whilst continuing to fuck her with his fingers, feeling the tension in her build. Her moans became louder, and occasionally she'd breath out the odd phrase: "Yes...please...more...like that...that feels so good..."

His own breath was quickening and he had to summon all his self control and willpower to focus on what he was saying. Eventually, he felt her muscles contracting around his fingers and just before he thought she was about to come, he leant again to her ear, speaking slowly but deliberately so she couldn't mistake his words.

"But the family that the Dark Lord favours the most right now -" He stroked his fingers over her clit. "The 'top dogs' as it were -" Then dipped them inside her, curling them forwards. "The patriarch of which is the Dark Lord's right hand man - " Back to her clit, moving his fingers with the pace and pressure he'd learnt she seemed to love. "The ones the blood traitors need to watch - " Her moans had turned into quiet cries now. "Are the _Nott_ family.'

He finished speaking just before Parvati's muscles spasmed - she almost buckled underneath him, collapsing onto his shoulders - and let out a succession of quiet, primal cries, as she was tipped over the edge.

* * *

A/N: Reviews/comments/thoughts are loved. Truly. Madly. Deeply.


	25. Don't Worry About Me

A/N: Trigger warning: Alecto gets nasty again in this chapter so there's a part where the squeamish amongst you might need to brace yourselves (or do a little bit of skim reading).

* * *

 **Ch 25: Don't Worry About Me**

 _'You might belong in Gryffindor / Where dwell the brave at heart / Their daring, nerve, and chivalry / Set Gryffindors apart...'_

\- The Sorting Hat, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.

 **Theo**

Parvati continued to lean all her weight on to Theo, her arms clasped around his shoulders, as he felt her body shudder from the remains of her orgasm. He breathed in the scent of her hair as it brushed against the tip of his nose, trying to mentally bottle it, even though he knew the memory would never be enough.

Part of him wanted to conjure a cushion, or better still a bed, and for them to lie together, whilst he wrapped his arms tightly around her and listened to her heartbeat slow until, maybe, she'd fall asleep. But of course he couldn't do that - that was all idealistic fantasising - so he mentally shook those thoughts from his mind.

Parvati's breathing eventually returned to normal, and she must have regained strength in her legs, because she gradually eased her weight from him, straightened up and pulled away. He instantly missed her touch.

"He's looking for something abroad, but you don't know what it is, although it's likely to be an old magical artefact?" she asked, in a surprisingly terse, business-like way.

He'd been worried she'd be upset - that there might have been tears. Or at least she would have been angry, with how he had been - with what he had said whilst he did the things he had to her body. This matter-of-factness, this detachedness, unnerved him. For once, he couldn't read her.

"Yes," he confirmed cautiously, taking a few steps back from her.

"And Malfoy Manor's still headquarters, although he hasn't forgiven the family?" Again, a calm, clipped tone, as she reached down and efficiently replaced her underwear.

"Yes," he said again.

She continued to ask clarifying questions of everything that he'd said, whilst straightening her clothes and buttoning up her coat. He realised she was double-checking the information, to ensure she'd remembered it accurately and thoroughly. It was all true, of course. As long as he wouldn't be revealed as being the source of the information - and for some reason he trusted undoubtedly that she'd ensure that wouldn't happen - he'd been happy to tell her everything he knew.

He was impressed by her level headedness and her calm ability to handle the situation now. Despite the words he'd whispered to her about his family, and the potential threat implied in them, she didn't seem scared, or even put-out at all. In fact, as he took in her cool demeaner and efficient manner, it was him that started to feel small. It seemed that she was the one that was turning out to have upper hand in this whole exchange. But he reaslied that he wasn't sorry for that.

After she'd gone through all the information surprisingly thoroughly and he watched her walk towards the door to leave, he wondered if she actually had quite a bit of Slytherin in her.

But then, as her hand rested on the door to open it, she did something that wouldn't be out of place in a Hufflepuff. She looked at him with a sad smile on her face and said softly, "Happy Christmas, Theo."

Then she turned and left, with her head bent and shoulders hunched against the cold of the night, disillusioning herself as she did so. She must have used a Cover Charm this time because the snow remained untouched where she would have been walking, as if she'd never been there at all.

* * *

Later, Theo tried to make sense of it all - tried to make sense of himself.

He admitted to himself that he was more than just intrigued by Parvati now, that his desire for her - his need - was almost wretched. But he couldn't start letting her in. Because she was making feelings bubble up and spit from that place deep inside him. Feelings he hadn't properly felt - hadn't let himself feel - for years. Dangerous feelings - affection, concern, _compassion,_ for fuck's sake.

Dangerous feelings, because if you cared about people, then others could exploit that. And there were two people in the world Theo admitted he genuinely cared about already. Probably two too many and he didn't need another one.

Why had she come into his life like this, invading his conscience, taking his attention in the day and making him sweat and ache with want at night? It annoyed him - _she_ annoyed him, as well as making him feel a whole array of other things.

So that's what he'd channelled when he'd taunted her with his words and teased her with his fingers. That was why he'd done it and said what he'd said at the end. But also because, again, she needed to be reminded of what he was. Because what he'd said about his family was true. From what he'd learnt in the letters he received from home, and from the other children of Death Eaters, his father was currently Voldemort's favourite. The information the Nott patriarch held about the history of dark magic, and the whereabouts of ancient wizarding artefacts, seemed to be enough for Voldemort to keep his father and the whole Nott family close by his side. Which was something that made Theo feel distinctly uncomfortable.

And it also meant Parvati Patil needed to stay away from him and keep her distance, for her own safety. But also, he admitted now, for his sake too. Because if she got too close, he didn't know what would happen if that cauldron of despair and hurt and care and love and all those other emotions erupted, and the lid that he'd been pressing down on it for years burst off, violently and irrecoverably.

* * *

Okay, it was official: a lion's pride _was_ its downfall.

Because Finnigan had gone and done it again. The second essay he'd given in to Alecto had also been littered with the word 'Muggle-borns' rather than 'mudbloods'.

"You seem to have a problem with _writing_?" Alecto screeched as she waved Finnigan's essay in the air.

It was like déjà vu. Although something uncomfortable rippled in the pit of Theo's stomach because this time, Theo knew Finnigan would be suffering more than a minute or so of Crucio.

"No, miss," Finnigan said innocently. He was standing at the front of the class again, his shoulders squared and his voice steady, and Theo had to admire his courage, even if it was terribly misdirected.

The Carrows had become less and less tolerant of any disobedience as the weeks had rolled into mid-December and the end of winter term had gotten closer. As the younger - and some of the older - students yielded to the Carrows' doctrine and regime, it had become increasingly obvious that a certain Harry Potter-following band of merry witches and wizards were not complying with it. Which was making the Carrows angry, if their pep talks at I.S. meetings were anything to go by.

"Then _why_ have you made so many mistakes here _again_? You understand it is an invaluable _opportunity_ to receive an education such as the one gifted at this school?! A _privilege_ that you are able to write at all? A _honour_ to be able to cast magic with wands - especially considering _your_ parentage?! You did not learn this lesson last time Finnigan - what will it take for you to learn this time? If you willingly abuse the privilege of being able to write with quills and ink, then maybe it is better if you are not able to write _at all!?"_ Alecto's voice had risen an octave higher with every sentence she spoke and Theo had wondered if the windows would start to crack. Then she took a deep breath and made a sweeping motion with her wand which cleared her desk that she was standing behind. "Put your right hand on the table, palm down," Alecto demanded, her voice deadly calm now.

Finnigan took a few tentative steps towards the desk, and gingerly placed his hand down on it.

"This is your writing hand and your wand hand, correct?" Alecto asked brightly.

"Yes," Finnigan confirmed, his voice not so steady anymore.

"Then you may have to learn to do both again with you other hand. From scratch. Like a _little child_." Alecto bit out, tauntingly.

Comprehension of Alecto's intentions quickly dawned on Theo and, unusually, for just a few seconds, Theo's thoughts collapsed into an incomprehensible mess: O _h no. No. No, no, no._ Because Theo knew by now that dark wounds were Alecto's specialty and if she wanted to render Finnigan's hand useless, she wouldn't just be breaking bones that could be re-grown. She would ensure that Finnigan's hand was damaged indefinitely.

"I'll start here," Alecto murmured, as if talking to herself, and pointed her wand an inch or so from Finnigan's index finger, her eyes narrowing in concentration. "Sectumsempra digitus!" she incanted firmly.

Finnigan let out a strangled noise of pain as a band of red blood formed around the base of his index finger. As the band got thicker and blood started to flow from it, Finnigan seemed to instinctively pull his hand away, but Alecto quickly mumbled an incantation that seemed to hold it in place.

"What is the correct term for an apparent witch or wizard born from Muggle parents?" Alecto asked Finnigan, her voice sharp.

"Muggle-born." Finnigan hissed the answer through clenched teeth and Theo couldn't help but roll his eyes in exasperation.

In response, Alecto seemed to hold her arm more tautly, her frown deepening. Blood started to pour profusely on to the desk as the dark witch's curse gouged deeper into flesh. Finnigan released a strangled whimper and his limbs jerked violently. Theo thought he knew the exact time when Alecto hit bone because Finnigan let out a sharp, hard, agonised yell. Theo was trying to think how he could stop it all without too much shit hitting a-very-dark-fan when someone cried out.

"No - please!"

Theo recognised who it was without having to look. It was Parvati's cry and it was like a deep stab to his heart. His eyes flickered over to the back of her head, then quickly away again because focusing on her would make all this much harder. They hadn't spoken since the night in the broom shed, which was just over a week ago now. When they did happen to cross paths in the halls or happened to look at each others way in class, both of them had maintained unreadable expressions, their blank eyes drifting over each other, as if trying to pretend the other wasn't there.

"Silencio! Immobulus!" Alecto abruptly raised her wand from torturing Finnigan to sweep it around the room, rendering all the class speechless and motionless from the neck down. They could only move their heads now, which many of the class were doing - looking at the wall, or out the window, or just down at their desk. Anywhere but at the horror that was being enacted at the front of the classroom.

"Incorrect! What is the correct term for an apparent witch or wizard born from Muggle parents?" Alecto's voice was rushed and impatient now - not a good sign.

"Muggle-born," Finnigan managed again.

Next to Theo, Draco shook his head agitatedly and Theo knew that if Draco could speak, he would have been muttering curses again. Theo could smell the fear and the cortisol - the stress hormone - coming from nearly everyone in the room.

" Sectumsempra digitus," Alecto incanted again and, after a few more seconds, Finnigan let out a noise that was half-grunt half-whimper, as his abuser finally lowered her wand. The Gryffindor slowly slid his shaking hand towards himself, across the table, through a puddle of his own blood.

Only, his index finger didn't move with the rest of his hand but stayed where it was, severed and detached. Theo's stomach turned at the sight of it.

"You will not be able to recover that finger, Finnigan. Not ever. I will ensure it. Place your hand back," Alecto stated dispassionately.

Blood, thick like syrup, was starting to drip off the side of the desk as Finnigan cautiously replaced his hand. The sickening, metallic smell of it was thick in Theo's nose and the back of his throat.

"Now, let's start on your middle finger. Until you appear to have learnt this ever so simple lesson, I will not stop," Alecto exclaimed wryly.

Alecto raised her wand again and cried out Snape's cutting curse for a third time. A red band formed around the base of the Irish boy's middle finger this time, blood quickly seeping from it to join the pool on the desk.

"Mudblood!" Finnigan blurted out. Alecto immediately stopped and lowered her wand.

"Pardon?" she sneered.

"Mudblood. The name for a witch or wizard born from Muggle parents. Mudblood," Finnigan said to the bloody mess that was his hand, in a voice of utter defeat. A Gryffindor that's lost the battle of daring, nerve and valour. And lost it badly.

"And your previous fellow housemate, the fugitive Hermione Granger, what is her blood status?" Alecto asked innocently.

Finnigan raised his head to look at Alecto. Theo couldn't see his expression, but imagined it was one of utter disgust.

"Mudblood." The word was mumbled with regret, as Finnigan returned his gaze to his hand. Or what was left of it.

"And Dean Thomas, is that his name? Also a known fugitive. What is his blood status?"

" _Mudblood_." Finnigan managed to hiss without moving his lips, keeping his eyes straight ahead. "Justin, Colin, Dennis, Cho, they're all filthy mudbloods! _Satisfied_?"

Theo could sense the utter hatred towards Alecto simmering in the bitterness of the Gryffindors' words. And that was the thing with torture, Theo thought. It may make people terrified enough to obey their oppressors, but at the same time it increased the hatred and anger towards them. Or else rendered the victims insane, like the Longbottoms.

"Yes, I think I am satisfied," Alecto said curtly. "Very well. I trust you to remember this lesson. And to write the essay a third time, using the appropriate language."

Alecto looked around the class and pointed at Lavender Brown. "You! Take him to the hospital wing. Just to seal the wound and replenish lost blood. Tell Pomfrey I forbid her to administer any other healing or re-growing spells. Not that they'd work anyway. But either way, I _will_ know and the consequences will be worse than this!"

Alecto waved her wand around the room, reversing her silencing and immobilising hexes. Brown immediately jumped up from her seat and hurried to Finnigan, supporting him to stand by putting his arm with his good hand around her shoulders. He was pale and faint, probably from a mixture of blood loss and pain.

As the couple made their way unsteadily down the aisle between the desks, Alecto vanished Finnigan's blood from the table, but something pink and soft remained: the Irish boy's finger. Millicent, who had been sitting in the front row, abruptly got to her feet with her hand clasped over her mouth like she was about to vomit and rushed from the room, pushing past Brown and Finnigan on her way out.

Alecto pointed her wand to the mound of pink tissue. "Incendio!"

It was reduced to ash in seconds.

As Brown and Finnigan stumbled past his desk, Theo could see the girls cheeks are damp with tears. She was clasping the injured boy's hand in hers and it was hard to see where his hand stopped and her hand started because they were both appeared to be one mass of blood. Theo heard Finnigan mumble something as they exited the classroom, causing Theo to let out a huff of amused incredulity.

"Fuck…this is really going to mess with my Quidditch."

* * *

"What is that blood traitor bitch wearing?" Pansy's voice dripped with contempt.

The school were sitting in rows of chairs in the Great Hall, facing a temporary stage, a few days after Alecto and Finnigan's latest stand-off. It was the Christmas Choir Concert and Parvati had just come forward to perform a solo for the last song. Up to now, Theo had been watching her furtively, not wanting to arouse suspicion from his fellow Slytherins who were sitting beside him. But now that the whole school's attention was on her, he could stare unhindered.

The sight of her simultaneously made something in his chest hurt and his cock twitch. She was wearing an emerald green sari that had an intricate pattern embroidered around the edges in gold thread. The silk fabric draped beautifully over her body. Theo could understand, although didn't share, Pansy's indignation - the green of the sari was exactly the same shade as that of Slytherin house. And house colours were sacred at Hogwarts. It was a bold move, and Theo wondered if Parvati had been aware of what she was doing when choosing her outfit and if so, what point she was trying to make.

"You don't have the patent on green Pansy," Theo heard Blaise say casually.

"It's a nice dress -"

"It's a _sari_ Marcus," Draco interrupted with disdain.

"I'd like to bend her over a desk and rip it off her, whatever the fuck it is," Flint leered.

Theo's muscles instantly tensed and he had to fight back the urge to punch Flint in the face.

"Don't be so _crude_ Flint," Daphne hissed. As she shifted in her chair next to Theo, a waft of that scent drifted across to him again - the one that was so familiar yet the source of which kept alluding him. He started to contemplate whether he should just ask Daphne outright which girl she was rubbing up against so often, when Parvati started singing, rendering his thoughts scattered and lost.

The whole school, even his row of fidgety, petulant Slytherins, stilled at the sound.

 _"I'll feel the fear for you...I'll cry your tears for you...I'll do anything I can to make you comfortable...even if I fall down, when you're not around…don't worry about me...don't worry about me.._."

As Parvati sang, her voice seemed to travel through the air, right into the centre of him and started to unwind something that had been tightly coiled for so long he hadn't even known it'd been there until now.

He kept his eyes locked on Parvati, not daring to move even them, lest it trigger something in him to become unbalanced, something that he was desperately clutching onto. But with every word Parvati sang, his grip seemed to weaken.

 _"I'll climb the hills you face…I'll do this in your place…I'd do anything to go through it instead of you...'Cause if I fall...you'll fall...and if I rise...we rise together.._."

Parvati's eyes met Theo's across the hall as she sang, pausing for a moment too long before gliding on again. But Theo didn't have the capacity to think about what that might have meant because, suddenly, he felt like a child again - overwhelmed, out of control, alarmed - as a feeling rose up in him he hadn't felt for years. It was like something was squashing his insides, causing the muscles in his face to contract, and with dismay, he recognised the threatening, hot stinging sensation behind his eyes _...no, no, no, no, no…_

Theo stood up abruptly, pushing his way down the row of seats, inelegantly tripping over feet, and hurried from the hall before anyone could see the traitorous tears fall from his eyes.

* * *

A/N: The song Parvati sings at the end of this chapter is 'Don't Worry About Me' by Frances. It's really rather lovely and well worth a google/youtube-ing. There's a version on youtube by the _Camden Voices Choir_ which is how I imagine the Hogwarts choir to sing it (it inspired the whole last section of this chapter!).

Reviews/comments/thoughts are, as ever, cherished and treasured.


	26. The Hardest Battles

**Ch. 26 The Hardest Battles**

 _'"The fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength."'_

― Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

 ** **Parvati****

 _ _The ones the blood traitors need to watch...are the Nott family.__

Parvati gazed back at her reflection in the bathroom of the Gryffindor girls' dorm, stroking her fingers over the dark marks on her neck, as Theo's words rolled around her mind. The marks were nearly gone now, and Parvati felt what she knew was a perverse sense of regret at this fact. She could have healed them away - she had recently perfected the spell in Charms - but she'd chosen not to, covering them with make-up and scarves instead.

Because the bruises that Theo left when he'd nibble and sucked at her neck in the disused broom shed just over a week ago were the only evidence, apart from her memories of course, that the entire thing had happened at all. She still hadn't told anyone about Theo, not even Lavender, and whenever she and Theo happened to catch each other's eyes, they looked at each other as if they were strangers.

She understood why, of course. Especially after what he had told her about how close his family was to Voldemort. She understood that what they were doing was dangerous, reckless. Possibly more dangerous for him than for her. Because it was him that was betraying his 'side'. If, indeed, that was what side he was on, of course. He was a contradictory, ambiguous puzzle that Parvati had, despite herself, taken it upon herself to solve.

What was clear and indisputable was how her body felt about him. She had never experienced anything like what she'd felt with Theo that night. Sex with Dean, and that one time with the Beauxbatton boy, had been…pleasant…good… _ _fine__. But she didn't have words to describe how her body responded to Theo's touch. All the cliché's were there - her nerves pulsed for him like electricity, her muscles melted, etc - and it was like she'd almost blacked out when she'd come, for Merlin's sake. And she was fairly sure his desire for her had been just as intense…

But what he was __thinking__ , that was a whole other realm that Parvati didn't understand. Although she was becoming more confident in the theory that his cold exterior was a mask and she was starting to believe that the main function of that mask was not just self protection, but also…maybe…protection of her too.

Because every time she got close to him, every time he let the mask slip in front of her, or she'd reach into a crack that has formed in it, he'd do something to push her away again. And Parvati knew that that was why he'd whispered what he had to her: __The ones the blood traitors need to watch...are the Nott family.__ To try and make her wary, to make her scared, to keep her at a distance. But it was too late for that. Parvati couldn't walk away from this now - from him. Her belief that Theodore Nott would harm or endanger her was diminishing with every observation of the boy, with every passing look, with every touch.

Parvati turned from the mirror and slipped off her towel, attempting to shake thoughts of Theodore Nott from her mind. She needed to focus this evening. It was the Christmas Choir Concert and she had been given a solo again. Most of the songs that they were singing were awful pureblood propaganda songs, but Flitwick, the choir's conductor, had managed to sneak in a few non-pureblood-promoting numbers, including the one that Parvati would be performing. Although it __was__ written by a witch, of course; all Muggle music had been banned in Hogwarts. Parvati put on the sari she'd chosen for the concert and stepped out in to the main dormitory.

Lavender was crouching on her bed behind Ginny, who was perching on the edge, somehow managing to plait and curl several parts of Ginny's hair at once, with the help of her wand. Ginny had somewhat reluctantly come up to their dorm after Lavender had insisted on doing her hair.

When they caught sight of Parvati, the two girls fell silent, looking at her with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

"Pav, what are hell? -"

"That sari, it's - the colour -"

Then they both stopped talking abruptly, seemingly aware that they were drowning out each other's words. Parvati waited. She'd been expecting this. Lavender was frowning at her in confusion.

"Pav," she started again. "Your sari - you look beautiful - but that's Slytherin __green__ Pav -"

"You can't __wear__ that!" Ginny interrupted.

"Oh stop! Calm down, it's just a colour, for Merlin's sake," Parvati said. Although she knew full well that this shade of green, in this school, would never be 'just a colour'. "It's green - it's a __Christmas__ colour for a __Christmas__ concert. My aunt sent me this sari from India - she has no idea about Hogwarts' stupid social rules - and I love it, so I'm going to wear it."

"That's great, that's fine Pav," Ginny said cautiously, as if trying to placate a toddler that was about to have a tantrum. "But it might seem like you're communicating that you've got some loyalty to the Snakes or something -"

"Or it might make Pansy Parkinson want to drag you into a girls' toilets the first chance she gets and smash your head against the tiles!" Lavender exclaimed.

Parvati scoffed. "Well, let her try. Seamus got his hand mutated, I can deal with a bit of grief from Pansy-pissing-Parkinson. So what if it looks like I'm cosying up to the Snakes?" Parvati looked pointedly at Ginny. "'The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters', isn't that what Harry says?"

Ginny's face fell and Parvati felt mildly guilty for throwing her missing boyfriend's words at her.

"Yeah...his Godfather said it to him once, he's never forgotten it..." Ginny said quietly.

"Hmm...and remember what the Sorting Hat said? 'Being sorted into these four houses can gift you with friends and allies, but it also splits and separates, causing you to doubt and to despise. You see, from division and distrust, hate and fear are fed, and in these times of great unrest, they only fuel bloodshed.'"

And with that, Parvati strode out the dorm, ignoring her friends' startled faces and hurried to the Great Hall.

Later, as Parvati was standing on the stage singing the beautiful words of her solo, and she watched Theo run from the Great Hall, she wondered if she - or maybe something else - had finally managed to rip his mask off completely.

* * *

 ** **Ginny****

"Professor Sprout, I was wondering if there was anything you needed taken down to the greenhouses?" Ginny asked hopefully, as she and Luna hovered on the threshold of the teacher's office.

It was the last day of Autumn Term, in that time between the end of classes and the end of term feast, and Ginny was feeling restless.

In the last month or so, the Herbology teacher had regularly given Ginny various tasks which had inevitably involved her having to walk extensively about the grounds. Sprout had first done this when she had come across Ginny agitatedly pacing up and down in the entrance hall of the castle. The teacher had enquired as to what the girl was doing and Ginny had given a garbled explanation about trying to release some pent up energy as she was no longer allowed to fly, or even walk the grounds, without good reason.

After the second time she had carried fertiliser from the stores to a greenhouses, Ginny became aware that Professor Sprout could easily have done the tasks by other, more efficient means. It was clear that the teacher was giving Ginny legitimate reasons to spend time outside. After a week or so, Ginny had suggested that Luna help her, as the redhead knew that the Ravenclaw was feeling just as suffocated by Snape's prohibitions as she was.

Professor Sprout studied Ginny for a moment.

"Well, as a matter of fact, I do need some warming solution to be taken down to the Mandrake Greenhouse. The weathers only going to turn colder over the holidays."

"Right. We can do that," Ginny enthused gratefully, as the Professor bustled around her office, collecting the bottles of said solution.

"You seem to be growing a lot of Mandrakes this term, Professor Sprout? And Devil's Snare...and quite a lot of dangerous plants?" Luna enquired innocently.

"Yes. Well. Let's just say, with the way things are going these days, they may come in useful for purposes other than teaching..." Professor Sprout said in a low voice, and Ginny gave her a knowing smile as she took the bottles from the teacher's outstretched hands.

After depositing the bottles in the greenhouse, Ginny and Luna returned to the school via a very convoluted, unnecessarily long route.

"It's nice to go for a walk before the feast. Usually, I have to spend this time looking for my lost possessions but they seemed to have mostly stayed put this year," Luna said dreamily as they walked along a path that skirted the edges of the Black Lake.

"I should bloody well hope so," Ginny retorted.

It was a lovely evening. Mild for mid-December and that time of twilight when both the sun and moon were visible in the sky. The two girls walked in silence for a little while, the kind you didn't feel the need to fill. The evening seemed delicate and fragile. As the sun glided further towards the horizon, slivers of gold and pink broke out low in the sky.

It seemed odd to witness such beauty when Ginny's insides were twisting and folding nauseously, as they had been for the last few days. She had been thinking of the how Christmas might be at the Burrow this year, with her mother's constant anxieties, the absence of Ron, Harry and Hermione, and everyone likely to be on edge, anticipating another Death Eater attack or worse. Part of Ginny felt like asking Luna if she wanted to keep walking, out in to the hills, until the sky turned dark and they could only see by moonlight. A heavy sigh escaped her.

"Are you okay, Ginny?" Luna asked gently. Unsurprisingly, her discontent hadn't gone unnoticed by her uncannily perceptive friend. Ginny looked at Luna. The low evening light was reflecting off her pale blond hair, creating an ethereal halo effect.

"Sometimes, it feels like they've already won," Ginny said somberly.

She hated sounding so defeatist, but the last few weeks of term had brought with it a stricter enforcement of the Carrows' regime and harsher punishments. The D.A. members had been particularly shaken by what had happened to Seamus. Fewer teachers seemed to be on duty during breaks and lunchtime, which had meant that the bullying and playground duels had become increasingly brutal. It was as if the Carrows and Snape, by leaving them to their own devices, were allowing the savagery and primal nature of the students to fester and grow. Like what happened to frightened, captured animals who ended up turning on each other through fear, or just the lack of any boundaries. It reminded Ginny of a book Hermione had told her about once - __Lord of the Ants__ or something oddly titled like that.

But there had been flickers of triumph. The invaluable Death Eater information Parvati had acquired from her contact, the one she'd met during the last Hogsmeade weekend, had felt like a victory of some kind. Ginny was still intrigued about who in Merlin's name Parvati's contact was, but the girl had insisted she could not disclose their identity, although she'd been adamant that, like with Snape's password, the information was genuine.

"I think they've won the school," Luna said sadly in response to Ginny's earlier comment. "I think they've won that battle. But not the war."

"You're certain that the Light will win?"

"I have __hope__ it will, yes."

"Hope?" Ginny asked doubtfully.

Luna was silent for a moment before she spoke again.

"You know, my mother's name was Pandora," Luna stated. Ginny waited for Luna to continue. She had learnt by now to trust Luna's seemingly tangential flights of conversation, because her eventual point was nearly always unnervingly poignant. "She was named after a lady in ancient Greek mythology - have you heard of Pandora's box?"

"No."

"Well, it actually wasn't a box apparently but a jar, although that's probably beside the point. Pandora had been given a box by the God Zeus but told that she must never, ever open it. But Pandora was a very curious lady, like my mother was, and one day her curiosity got the better of her and she opened the box. When she did, there was a loud hissing noise and a foul odour filled the air. Terrified of what she might have unleashed, Pandora quickly shut the box. But it was too late. She had unleashed into the world all the suffering of humankind: hunger, sickness, jealousy, hatred, war..."

"Sounds like she had a bad day," Ginny commented dryly. Luna smiled patiently and continued.

"Not knowing what to do, Pandora did the only thing she could think of: she opened the box again and let out the one thing that was left, lingering at the bottom. She suddenly felt a warm and comforting presence, and a strong sense that everything would be okay. She had released the one good thing that had been in the box: hope. Just as quickly as the evils spread, so did hope," Luna stopped walking and turned to Ginny. "A lot of people purport that the myth is a message about the perils of too much curiosity. But my Grandma actually named my mother Pandora because she brought hope into the world. With hope, suffering is made bearable. If I wasn't hopeful, and stopped believing all this was worth it, and let the dark get the better of me, it would be like betraying my mother's memory," Luna paused, looking up at the darkening sky. "It's not always easy though. Sometimes the hardest battles are the ones we fight in our own mind."

Ginny followed Luna's gaze upwards, letting her words sink in.

"And that's how you're able to be so calm all the time? A powerful, enduring sense of hope?"

Luna shrugged. "Oh, I'm certainly not calm __all__ the time," she said brightly, and started walking in the direction of the castle. "Shall we go to the feast? I heard there's rhubarb crumble for pudding."

* * *

The loud, screeching sound of wheels scrapping across steel filled the carriage, drowning out Neville and Seamus' animated conversation. Ginny and Luna were propelled forward in their seats as the train came to an abrupt holt.

"Why are we stopping?" Neville asked, frowning. "We only left Hogwarts an hour ago."

The group gave each other blank looks. They were all as confused as Neville. Ginny got to her feet, opened the compartment door and leaned out. The corridor was quiet but Ginny could see other students' heads poking out from their respective compartments.

Suddenly, a voice boomed throughout the train.

"Please stay in your seats. This is a routine check. __Stay in your seats__ ," it commanded.

Keeping the door ajar with her foot, Ginny turned back to the others, frowning. "Since when do they do routine checks?"

"I smell bullshit," Seamus said grimly, as Neville got up to join Ginny at the door.

They was a sudden banging and the sound of loud, authoritative voices at the far end of the train. Ginny saw that a group of darkly cloaked figures had boarded and watched as they headed into the first compartment, a few doors down from the Gryffindors'. She instinctively withdrew her wand from her pocket.

"Can you see anything outside?" Seamus asked Luna, who was sitting nearest the window.

Luna craned her neck, looking out at the Scottish countryside. "Yes. Hills and crags, and a very pretty waterfall. But I assume you mean anything unusual. No," Luna concluded regretfully.

The cloaked figures exited the first compartment and entered the next one. Then Ginny saw Alfie, Terry Boot's younger brother, scoot out from the first compartment and, hunched over, bolt up the train corridor. He stopped when he reached Ginny and Neville.

"Alfie, you should've stayed in your seat," Neville admonished. "Get in here."

Neville grabbed Alfie and pulled him into their compartment. Ginny kept her head poked out the door, looking out for further developments.

"I'm just trying to find Terry - and you guys," Alfie gasped out. "To warn them - you. They're looking for someone. They asked for our I.D. I was sitting with some other first years and one of the cloaked guys said 'that's not her - she's much older than that.' So they're looking for an older girl!"

Ginny saw the figures begin to exit the second compartment. She hastily withdrew her head and retreated into the compartment, closing the door shut behind her. The others had risen from their seats, their wands drawn at their sides.

"What did they look like?" Seamus asked urgently.

"Mean," Alfie responded gravely. "They had their hoods pulled low over their faces. There were three of them, two men and a woman. They seemed quite unkempt - I don't think they're Ministry officials. They're others - you can see out the windows on the other side - there's one at every exit."

"We should do something," Ginny said, shifting her wait between her feet impatiently. "We can't just stand here and wait for them to come to us!"

"Ginny, don't lose your head to hero mode," Neville said quietly but firmly. "If they're looking for someone, you're a prime target."

Ginny looked at Neville defiantly.

"A Weasley. Harry's girlfriend," Neville continued. "My Gran said it wouldn't be long before they start going after people's loved ones to get to them. I think you should hide Ginny."

"But - I'm not hiding -"

There was the sound of raised voices very near - the intruders were in the neighbouring compartment.

"She's not here!" Ginny heard Ernie Macmillan cry out. Then they heard an unfamiliar voice say something unintelligible and a loud thump, which sounded like a body hitting the floor. This was followed by more cries and thudding sounds, and startled shriek, probably from Hannah Abbott. Ginny noticed Neville's hands ball up into tight fists.

He pointed his wand at Ginny.

"Ascendio," he said resolutely and Ginny found herself floating up into the air and her body being moved on to the luggage rack above the seats, at the same time as it turned in to the shimmering haze of a Disillusionment Charm. Ginny thought of fighting Neville but concluded it really wasn't the time to get into a duel with a friend.

"How bloody dare you, Longbottom!" Ginny hissed instead, just as the door of their compartment burst open.

A cloaked figure stood in the doorway, with two more just behind him. His hood was low over his head so his eyes were in shadow, although Ginny saw a thick scar down his left cheek. She remained motionless, because she was thinking that, after all, it may be an advantage to be hidden. If she needed to attack, she could do it with the element of surprise. Her friends, including Alfie, had all raised their wand's at the cloaked figure in the doorway.

"Lower your wands," the man commanded in a low, menacing voice. "This is merely a routine check. There are many more of us, and this train will not be moving until we finish our work here. If you overpower us, more will only apparate here."

Ginny saw the students below her reluctantly drop their arms to their sides. She thought with alarm that Alfie should have hidden too, because the cloaked figures were sure to realise he'd been in the first carriage they searched. But it was too late for that now.

"Identity cards please." The man's voice was measured and authoritative.

Ginny watched her friends fumble in their pockets, reaching for their cards. Last summer, the Ministry had issued I.D. cards to all those that were deemed to have 'pure enough' blood. They stated the person's name, address, identity number and blood status. Outside of Hogwarts, it was the law for everyone to carry their cards on their person at all times.

Whilst the other two cloaked figures stood just outside the compartment, the scarred man studied Neville's card meticulously. When he took Seamus's card, he seemed to take an age looking at it, moving his gaze slowly up to Seamus's face and back to the card. Ginny could feel apprehension building in the tiny, crowded room.

"Half-blood?" Scar-face eventually said, contemptuously .

Seamus inhaled slowly, looking the man straight in the face. "Yes," he answered defiantly.

Ginny silently willed Seamus not to do anything rash, and when the man finally handed Seamus back his card, she let out a long breath that she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

Then the man turned to Luna, who calmly handed him her I.D. with a small, polite smile on her face. As the man looked down at her card, his body stilled for a moment. Then he looked slowly back up at Luna.

"Luna Lovegood?" he asked, his words slow and deliberate.

"Yes," Luna replied, and for possibly the first time ever Ginny heard a hint of anxiety in her voice.

The man turned to his two companions, who were still standing in the doorway, and gave curt nod.

Something had shifted in the room.

Scar-face turned back to Luna. "You're to come with me," he stated. "Your wand please."

"What?" Seamus blurted out. "We're on our way home! She's expected at King's Cross!"

The man had reached out and grabbed Luna's arm and impulsively, Ginny sent a nonverbal stunning spell at the him. There followed a chaotic rush of hexes and curses, skirmishes and shouts, and colliding and falling bodies. In the midst of it all, Ginny jumped down from the luggage rack into the fray.

After a few moments of disorder and confusion, things quickly stilled. To her dismay, Ginny found herself being held by Scar-face, her arm twisted painfully behind her back. She saw that his woman companion was holding Neville in a vice-like grip too - his lips were split and bleeding - and Alfie and Seamus were lying on the floor, struggling under what looked like Incarcerous Curses. And Luna was being held in an uncompromising grasp by the second robed man.

Her blond friend was looking straight at Ginny, her eyes sparkling with passion, and in the moment when there were still the sounds of grunts and the movements of struggling, she whispered earnestly, "Always keep hoping Ginny."

Then her captor dragged Luna from the compartment, as the Ravenclaw kicked out her legs and twisted her body in an effort to escape, and other students poured out into the main corridor of the train. Another cloaked man, who seemed to have come out of nowhere, grabbed Luna's other arm and as they turned on the spot, Luna's cry filled the carriage, loud and urgent and desperate:

"Don't stop fighting!-"

And then she was gone.

As the other robed figures disapparated around them, Ginny stood frozen in disbelief, looking in dismay at the spot where Luna had disappeared.

* * *

A/N: Yikes! This chapter feels like a bit of a milestone for me because it's the last one of Autumn Term (!) and it finally includes the quote from my fic summary/fic title. As ever, I'd love to know your thoughts.


	27. New Year's Eve

A/N: So, before we return to Hogwarts for Spring Term, we're taking a little detour via some Death Eater socialising...

WARNING: references to rape/sexual abuse in this chapter.

* * *

 **Ch. 27 New Year's Eve**

 _'"It matters not what someone is born but what they grow to be."'_

\- Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

 **Theo**

Theo had thought - hoped - that being away from Parvati would help reduce how powerfully his mind and body were drawn to her, but the two long weeks of the Christmas holidays had just made it worse. It had made him realise how much he'd been feeding off those looks across the Great Hall at mealtime, the glances at her in classes - how he'd been trying to drink in as much of her as possible - and the almost constant anticipation he'd had, no matter how unrealistic, that circumstances might bring them together again, even in the most pathetic, unsatisfying way. Like brushing against her in the corridors or being paired with her in class. Now it was New Year's Eve and he felt starved of her.

His brother, Ethan, was back from Durmstrang but they barely spoke. Having a brother being forced to Crucio you from when he was twelve years of age and you were eleven - and vice-versa - tended to put a dampener on brotherly love. The way the curse was employed so casually in the Nott household was the reason why Ethan had used it so indifferently when he'd got to Hogwarts and why he'd been expelled from the school. He had spent most of his time living abroad since, meaning the brothers had grown even more distant.

Theo's father had spent much of the holidays attending various meetings. Events were continuing to move in Death Eater circles and Theo was being made privy to more and more information, although there was still a lot that he didn't know, and trying to fit the pieces he did have together left a confusing picture. Occasionally, Theo had been invited to the Death Eater gatherings themselves and he had got the distinct, unsettling, impression that he was being groomed to take the mark himself, which was something that filled him with dread.

Nott Manor was large and rambling and, even when fully occupied, it was easy to find yourself alone. When Theo had been a child, he'd often gone to the kitchen and Dibity had kept him company, feeding him freshly baked scones straight from the huge kitchen hearth. Then of course, there had been his mother, whose warmth and love had been expansive enough to flood all the rooms of the mansion, filling every corner and crevice.

But he'd learnt the hard way that spending time with house elves was a no go. And the warmth his mother's presence had provided had died with her, although the memory of it still lingered. Theo didn't know if this was good thing - having a constant reminder of what he had lost.

So he'd occupied himself with reading, studying, the occasional Christmas party and spending time with Daphne. But none of it was distraction enough. Even if he'd managed to banish thoughts of Parvati during the daytime, they'd come to him at night and he'd wake up hot and sweating, his sheets twisted awkwardly around his limbs, aching with need and having to satisfy himself...which was no satisfaction at all...

"Theo!? Come on now! The Portkey's ready!" Theo's father called up to him.

"Yes, sir!" Theo responded to his father's demand instantly, adjusting his tie hastily and hurrying from his bedroom. Obeying his father was an almost Pavlovian response for Theo, like a dog that had been trained to do a full repertoire of tricks.

Tonight was the Malfoy's annual New Year's Eve party. It was the kind of event that Theo would normally find trying and draining, but this evening he was grateful for it because he hoped it might provide some much needed distraction.

The Notts, along with the Greengrasses, Portkeyed to the foot of the Malfoy's long, manicured garden. As they made their way up the gravel path to the manor, Theo saw the silhouettes of people moving about in the drawing room window. The trees were scattered with the twinkles of flying fairies and, as they got nearer the house, the path was flanked on either side by lines of enchanted snowman that took their hats off and bowed as they walked past.

"It hasn't even fucking snowed in Wiltshire yet," Daphne mumbled so only Theo could hear, clearly scornful of the Malfoy's desperate need to impress. Theo smiled in amusement. Thank Merlin for Daphne.

An elf welcomed them at the entrance to the house and meekly relieved them of their luggage. As was tradition, the Notts, along with a handful of other well selected guests, would be staying the night in order to draw out the New Year's festivities in to the next day. Another elf greeted them at the door to the drawing room and, as they waited to be announced, Theo braced himself, channelling the person he needed to be for the next twenty four hours. Theodore Nott: second heir to the Nott fortune, excellent student, calm, confident and secure in his blood supremacy. He straightened his shoulders and relaxed his expression as the doors opened and they were announced.

Narcissa immediately came hurrying over, all false smile and migraine-inducing perfume, offering drinks.

"A glass of champagne perhaps? Or we have firewhisky of course, and some vintage mead - a special 1922..."

As Narcissa listed the drinks options, Theo scanned the room to further mentally prepare himself for the evening ahead. A huge Christmas tree stood by the ornate marble fireplace, with fairies flying in and out of the branches, occasionally showering people nearby with their dust. Enchanted candles hovered about the room and branches and leaves of evergreens, holly and ivy were arranged on almost every available surface. It was lavish but tasteful - typical of the Malfoys.

Theo saw Draco off to the side of the room, whispering conspiratorially with Blaise. Pansy was in the midst of the crowd, currently talking to a group of people that included, to Theo's distaste, the puppet Minister of Magic. Theo noted numerous Death Eaters mingling in the crowd.

Then, in a circle with Avery and Umbridge, Theo spied Cressida Krall and images immediately flashed in to his mind's eye: those Thestral stables during that wedding last summer, Cressida pinned up against the wall with her legs wrapped around his waist, and then, exactly a year ago, the two of them both falling on to one of the beds in the numerous guestrooms upstairs, as Cressida grabbed Theo's tie and pulled his face towards hers.

Cressida Krall: beautiful, manicured and groomed to perfection, complete with a dazzling smile which she was now directing at Umbridge. Cressida was American, lived in New York and attended Ilvermorny school. She was one of the top in her year of course. And the blood running in her veins was reassuring pure; the Kralls of her grandfather's generation had been notorious supporters of Grindelwald. She and her parents often visited relatives in the U.K. and Theo had met her many times over the years at various weddings, parties, and wizarding ceremonies. And on more recent occasions their meetings had become…more intimate…

"Theodore darling, a drink?" Narcissa interrupted Theo's reverie.

"Champagne would be lovely, thank you Narcissa," Theo responded, giving her the smile he saved for just these evenings: polite, charming and ever-so fake. His cheek muscles would be aching in a few hours.

At Narcissa's summons, an elf appeared by his side and handed him his drink. Theo endured small talk with Lucius and Narcissa for several long minutes before escaping them at an appropriate moment and joining Draco and Blaise in the shadows at the side of the room.

"Hey mate," Draco said, and the three exchanged greetings and brief updates of their holidays so far.

"Blaise has got us some Sommy. For later, if you fancy it?" Draco said after a few moments.

"Somnium? How in Merlin's name did you get the voracious valerian?" Theo asked.

Somnium Beatus was a potion that was rare and illegal to possess and consume except for registered mind healers and their patients. A key ingredient was a specific type of valerian root - what was known in the wizarding world as 'voracious valerian' - that was only grown in certain Mediterranean coastal regions and was incredibly hard to source. When taken with a teardrop of the drinker, the potion sent them into a blissful sleep, comprised of their own unique fantasies and devoid of any fear or sadness - just contentment and euphoria. It was this blissfulness that made Somnium Beatus so addictive. People just wanted to come back for more and more until they neglected their work, their friends, their family, their very selves and wasted away.

It was one of the most addictive substances known to magical kind, which is why Theo had only done it once and would never again. Because self control was everything. And the comedowns were awful. Although…it was tempting, considering the mental torture he'd been through recently trying to get _her_ out of his mind...but no.

"Second cousin brought a stash back from Italy," Blaise explained. "I've got some with me tonight for you Theo - a Christmas present - thought you'd like it for your ingredients store."

Theo was taken aback. He wasn't used to being given presents except when people had clearly felt obligated. He wasn't used to being on the receiving end of random acts of kindness.

"Thanks," he managed to say, forcefully quelling unfamiliar emotions that were stirring deep in his stomach. "And you brewed some Sommy yourself?"

"Yep. Had some time to kill these holidays."

"So maybe later, yeah?" Draco insisted.

"Yeah, maybe," Theo lied.

Over the next few minutes, the three Slytherins lapsed into commentary and gossip about the other guests.

"Astoria's...blossoming..." Blaise observed, eyeing Daphne's younger sibling. Theo followed Blaise's gaze to where Astoria was standing with her mother.

"Careful mate," Theo said warningly. "She's like a little sister to me."

"Calm your tits Theo," Blaise said dispassionately. "She's not my type anyway...too... _innocent_."

Theo watched as Astoria smiled politely at Augustus Rookwood, who was standing far too close to her and leaning over her with a leery grin. Astoria did have a sweet, childlike naivety to her, and Theo had never heard her mutter a mean or spiteful word. Salazar only knew how she'd ended up in Slytherin House.

"Who's that? She looks familiar," Blaise asked, nodding towards a girl with shoulder length tight curls who was standing next to Walden Macnair. She had a grave expression on her face, and was staring with glazed eyes into the middle distance, as if oblivious to what was going on around her.

"Marietta Edgecombe. Sixth Year Ravenclaw," Draco reported, hesitantly.

"She looks...out of it...is she high?" Blaise queried, slight envy in his voice.

"Possibly drugged..." Draco's voice was strained, and he seemed to force the next words out. "Her parents work for the Ministry, but they got on the wrong side of...the Dark Lord…so she's been...Re-Parented to Macnair".

Theo's stomach churned and he suddenly felt like he was going to vomit up the champagne he'd just been drinking. Because he knew what the 'Re-Parenting Programme' was effectively a euphemism for.

"Fuck..." Blaise murmured, clearly as unsettled by Marietta's fate as Theo was. "Isn't she the one that ratted out the Harry Potter fan club in fifth year?"

"Yeah, but I think she only did it because she seriously thought they'd kill her mother if she didn't spill. And she might have been right…" Draco answered, his voice tight. "She was at Hogwarts last term but had to go and live with Macnair over the holidays."

"And he's brought her here, tonight?" Theo asked, disbelieving.

"Yeah...he told my Dad they only needed one room to stay in...fucking shameless…but father insisted on giving her a separate bedroom, as far away from him as possible...don't think it will help much though," Draco finished darkly.

Theo's mind was whirring, trying to problem solve, because although he had spent most of his life watching in the shadows as people did shitty things to other people, sometimes things were just too wrong and he couldn't stand back and do nothing.

"Your mother always has a stash of sleeping draughts, right Draco?" he asked cautiously.

"Yeah," Draco responded uncertainly.

"A sleeping draught and some of that voracious valerian will knock Macnair out for a good twelve hours. Might save her from the worst of him tonight," Theo said.

It was a risky, suggesting this, because he was outing himself as someone that would conspire against a Death Eater, and by default, against the worst of Voldemort's regime. But Draco and Blaise had seemed as appalled by Marietta Edgecombe's circumstances as he was, so he'd taken the risk.

Draco looked thoughtful for several minutes, causing Theo to start to doubt his judgment, but then he spoke.

"Humpity can spike his drink, he's always been loyal to me, and good at following instructions," Draco said in a low voice, referring to one of his house elves, and Theo instantly relaxed again.

Blaise then started questioning Draco about whether the Malfoy apothecary would have a range of specific potions ingredients.

"Yeah, we've probably got all that stuff..." Draco confirmed, uncertain again.

"A mixture of that and some everyday ingredients you've probably got in your pantry will make a bloke's dick limp for at least a week," Blaise said with a wry smile. "Will save her from the worst of him until she gets back to Hogwarts."

"Yeah, that's right." Theo said, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. Blaise had never been particularly proficient at Potions.

"Anything about cocks or cunts - I know. They're my areas of interest," Blaise stated proudly.

"Salazar Blaise, you're so _crude_ ," Draco admonished, although there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

He subtly clicked his fingers and Humpity appeared by their side.

"Master Nott!" the elf exclaimed when he saw Theo, wide eyed and beaming. "It is a privilege to see you again!"

"Hey Humpity," Theo said warmly. He had always been kind to house elves and treated them with the respect he'd give any human.

"Humpity, there's something I need you to do..." Draco said as he put his arm on the elf's shoulder and led him off in to a corner.

Theo needed to take a moment to process what had just happened: he'd just conspired with fellow Slytherins to do something... _good_. After years of keeping his true beliefs a secret, he'd finally been able to plan and contribute to actions consistent with his actual morals. Theo felt something unfamiliar, which he initially found hard to name, but then realised it was something akin to _hope_. And in Draco and Blaise's words and actions, something else had grown _between_ the three of them…something like trust.

"Theo," Nott senior had suddenly swept up to them and at the sound of his voice, Theo's new feelings of hope and camaraderie were instantly quelled, replaced by an icy kind of numbness that swiftly rippled along his veins. "Don't skulk in the shadows dear, there is a room of people that would love to talk with you."

Theo could hear the underlying meaning in his father's words: _Work the room and network or you'll feel the repercussions when we get home._

And so, with a concerted effort, Theo once again put on his charming, self-assured persona and did just that. He made his way from group to group, nodding and smiling and responding to comments and questions with an appropriately smooth reply.

" _Ah Nott junior, how lovely, how are you finding the reforms at Hogwarts? I've heard they've been just what that school's needed"…"Thank Merlin that awful Dumbledore's gone…any plans of what you might do when you leave?"..."I think the U.K. should adopt a wand permit system like you have in the U.S. Mr Krall"… "The International Statute of Secrecy needs a complete overhaul"…"I totally agree, magical kind lurking in the shadows, as if we should be ashamed. Muggles and mudbloods have gotten away with too much for too long"…"We need to take back control"…_

 _…_ and so it continued, and Theo switched from champagne to firewhisky, downing glass after glass because, well, it made it all easier. When he felt he'd sufficiently completed a round of the room, he escaped to the side again, trying to hide by the huge Christmas tree.

He was looking blankly out at the crowd, attempting to quell the anger at the insipid, hypocritical bigotry he'd felt like he'd just been drowning in, when Cressida came and stood by his side.

"Theo," she greeted him, as she also stared out at the room.

"Cressida," Theo drawled, mirroring her polite but bored voice.

"I saw you charming the room. Needed a break?" Her voice was as smooth as silk.

"Yes."

"How was your Christmas?"

"Average. Yours?"

"Same."

There was a pause as they both sipped on their drinks and continued to gaze straight ahead of them. After a moment or so, Cressida's scent reached Theo and the best way of describing it was that of…money. The rare perfume, the silk of her dress, the expensive lotion she'd put in her hair: Cressida Krall smelled of money. It brought back more memories of the Thestral stables and the bedroom upstairs.

"How's Hogwarts?" Cressida asked. She managed to put the slight sneer in her voice when saying his school's name, in the way only people of her - their - class could.

It's fucked up, on its way to becoming a Death Eater training camp, Theo thought, but of course didn't say it. "Different," he decided on.

"I can imagine…things are getting quite exciting this side of the pond, aren't they?" Cressida asked drily.

Well, that was one way of saying that nearly every member of the population was either being persecuted or doing the persecuting, Theo thought. And suddenly, he felt Cressida's fingers trace a pattern up his spine, through his shirt, and he inhaled sharply. He hadn't even been aware she'd managed to put her arm around his back.

'"How's life at Ilvermorny?" he asked, attempting to ignore Cressida's dancing fingertips.

She let out a quiet sigh. "Fucking dull. Looking forward to leaving. Although my father has been talking of arranging a transfer to Hogwarts for me to complete the last year there…said British as well as U.S. qualifications will put me at an 'enviable advantage'. So, for Merlin's sake, I might have another year of school to endure…" As she spoke, Cressida curled her finger tips and raked them gently down his back, causing his breathing to quicken. Cressida knew from previous experience how much of an effect that had on him.

And then the memory came back to Theo of the Potions classroom and Parvati's nails scratching along his back. It was that, and probably the ten or so glasses or champagne and firewhisky combined, that caused an almost uncontrollable rush of desire in him. He looked sideways at Cressida: shoulder length, wavy black hair, brown eyes, olive skin. She was similar, but not too similar, and of course, her smell was all wrong. As was the way she held herself - distant and hard and almost impenetrable - the complete opposite of Parvati. But maybe it could serve as some release…

Cressida turned to him, no doubt feeling his gaze on her.

"But I try and get some excitement where I can," she continued, smiling coldly, her fingers still expertly moving across his back. "Maybe you could oblige tonight Theo?"

"I don't want anything serious Cressida." He'd said these words to her before, but felt the need to repeat them, to make sure he was clear. Because as much as the other people in this room could chew people up and spit them out when they were done, he didn't want to be one of them. He preferred to manage people's expectations.

Cressida let out an impatient sound of derision. "I live in New York and you spend most of the year in highlands of Scotland. I don't want a pen pal," she said knowingly.

It was oddly reassuring, that Cressida appeared to be almost as emotionally numb as he was. They'd had sex on three separate occasions and they had both been transparent about what it was - and what it wasn't: lust, release, something to reduce the boredom and staidness of the kind of events they were at now.

Theo turned to her and, just as he met her knowing smile with his own, they were both blinded by a flash of light. He felt Cressida's hand immediately leave his back and, blinking away the spots of white still in his vision, Theo saw Rita Skeeter standing in front of them with a camera held in her hand and a gleeful smile on her lips.

"That's going to make a great photo for the Witch Weekly special edition!" Skeeter exclaimed smugly, and swooped away before Theo could protest.

"Trashy bitch," Cressida said in disgust at Skeeter's retreating back. Theo grunted in agreement.

Then they both spotted Pansy making a beeline for them through the crowd and before she reached them, Cressida leant over and whispered low in his ear: "My bedroom's on the first floor, East Wing, third door down on the right. Midnight should be safe enough."

* * *

Theo awoke around two the next morning in Cressida's bed, her sleeping body sprawled next to his. They had taken each other a couple of hours earlier, in a fit of lust and drunkenness, just after the New Year's fireworks had faded from the sky. As he'd lowered Cressida on to the bed, Theo had focused in on her waves of dark hair before squashing the guilt, closing his eyes and imagining someone else. It had been a release of sorts but he knew it wouldn't last long. He knew the longing for Parvati would come back soon enough.

A yelp that had originated from just outside the bedroom door had woken Theo. It was followed by a dull thump, as if someone had fallen to the ground. He remained still for a moment or so, contemplating whether to investigate or ignore it. He really didn't want to get involved in drunken, early morning wanderings, but the Hufflepuff in him kept badgering him with thoughts of the person being harmed and in need of help. After a minute or so, his inner 'Puff won out and he rose from the bed, hastily dressed, opened the door and almost tripped over a body that was lying just outside the threshold.

Theo knelt down by the seemingly unconscious girl, jostling her shoulder gently.

"Hey - Pans!". Pansy slowly opened her eyes.

"Oh, hey Theo," Pansy slurred and grinned up at him with wide, bloodshot eyes. "I got a bit lost," and she giggled, as if that were hilarious. She was utterly smashed, Theo deduced.

"Here," Theo reached out his hand and helped Pansy stagger to her feet.

"Draco and the others…they're still up…in the front sitting room," Pansy said, more alert now. "Walk me down there like the gentleman you are."

The mansion was quiet now, with the hallways dimly lit by only a few wall-mounted torches. Theo helped Pansy down to the ground floor, listening silently to her drunken ramblings. As they neared the bottom of the staircase, Pansy stumbled and stretched out her left arm, gripping on to the banister to steady herself. Theo saw the long sleeve of her dress stretch up and it was then that he glimpsed a black mark on her wrist. His heart quickened at the sight of it and he instinctively pushed Pansy against the banister, steadying her in a tight grip with one hand and pushing the left sleeve of her dress up with the other.

Pansy, passive to his shoving, giggled again. "Oh Theo, I think I like it when you get rough."

But Theo couldn't respond because his stomach was twisting nauseatingly as he stared down at the black mark of a snake and skull that now took up nearly all of the pale skin on Pansy's thin inner left forearm.

"Pans - what the fuck?" he managed to ask, incredulous.

Pansy looked down at her arm and a malicious smile formed on her lip.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she said in awe.

No, it's not fucking beautiful, it's a fucking ugly mark of darkness and death, Theo wanted to scream. But of course, he bit that back.

"When?" he asked, relinquishing her arm more abruptly than he'd intended and causing Pansy to sway precariously. He knew Pansy hadn't had the mark at the end of last term.

"Just before Christmas. The Dark Lord…it's such an honour to be able to do his work Theo," Pansy looked at him intently, her eyes glinting with excitement, as Theo felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Because Pansy had always been cruel and spiteful but he had always hoped she wasn't outright sadistic. And Merlin, he thought, please don't let her be as batshit crazy as Bellatrix, because the world _really_ didn't need two of them.

"But - where?" Theo asked, because he thought he had been doing well at gaining as much information about events in Death Eater circles as he could, and he needed to make sense of this - needed to fit this in to the narrative he tried to mentally maintain.

"Here. I was visiting Draco, and the Dark Lord was staying. He saw me and took an interest," Pansy said proudly. "He was interrogating Ollivander the wand maker about something."

Now Theo was even more confused.

"Ollivander was here?"

"Oh yes, didn't you know? The Dark Lord has an interest in him," she smiled knowingly and continued in a stage whisper, conspiratorially. "He's locked down in the cellar as we speak. Along with that weird Ravenclaw girl."

"Who?" Theo snapped. His heart nearly stopped beating for the second time in the last ten minutes, because over the holidays he'd frequently thought about who had been taken from the train on their way home from Hogwarts.

"Sixth year. Weirdo. Annoying - well, all the bloody 'Claws are, worst than Gryffinbores if you ask me, think they're so bloody clever -"

 _"Who_ Pansy?!" Theo tried to keep his voice under control.

"CalmdownTheodore," Pansy said in an authoritarian voice, which was somewhat negated by the fact she was still slurring. "You know - the oddest cloths. White hair. Loony something -"

"Luna? Luna Lovegood?"

"Yes! That! Well done!" Pansy said excitedly and giggled again. Theo felt dizzy, disorientated, as if the world had rotated full pelt on its axis and he'd become unbalanced with it.

"Why? What does the Dark Lord want with _her_?" he demanded.

Pansy shrugged. "To get to her father. His rag. She's just leverage," Pansy sighed. "I'm bored of talking about her. I want to find Draco…" and she turned from him and started to stumble her way down the remainder of the stairs.

"It's pale blonde," Theo said quietly. He hadn't meant to speak out loud.

"What?" Pansy halted at the bottom of the stairs but didn't turn round.

"Her hair. It's not white. It's pale blonde."

"Whatever, Theodore." Pansy waved her arm dismissively and continued to stagger towards the front sitting room.

* * *

An hour and a half later Theo, who had retired to his own bedroom - he was sure Cressida wouldn't miss him if she woke up alone - quietly rose again and made his way downstairs. He was fairly certain everyone would be asleep by now. He glanced quickly in to the front sitting room on his way past it and saw Draco, Pansy, Millicent and Blaise passed out on the sofas, empty Somnium Beatus bottles scattered on the table in front of them.

He knew the layout of Malfoy Manor well by now and used this knowledge to make his way to the entrance to the cellar by one of the less popular routes, just in case there happened to be any revelers still up. Fortunately, he hadn't encountered anyone else by the time he'd got to the small wooden door set in to the wall just before the entrance to the kitchen. He cast a powerful Muffliato around himself and then pointed his wand at the cellar door.

"Alohomora!" he incanted quietly.

It didn't work of course, the Malfoy's were sure to protect Voldemort's treasures more fiercely than that. He tried various other spells to no avail. Then he tried to put himself in the mindset of Draco's parents: privileging magical means above all else, whilst underestimating Muggle methods….which gave him an idea. He darted in to the kitchen, opening draws and rifling through cooking equipment. It only took him a minute or so to find the right implement. Grasping it in his hand, he hurried back to the door, crouched down and started to pick the lock.

After about five minutes of painstaking fiddling, Theo heard a quiet click and saw, through the thin slit between the door and it's frame, the lock release. He allowed himself a grin of triumph, before casting several other spells in order to reverse any further protective charms that might be cast on the entrance to the cellar. Then he turned the handle and the door swung open - in to nothing but blackness.

"Lumos." Theo's charm lit up the beginnings of narrow stone steps. Closing the cellar door behind him, he tentatively started to descend them. As he did so, he felt the ice-cold wetness of damp in winter time radiating off the walls on either side of him and seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt. Fortunately, his wolf-blood always meant his average body temperature was higher than a 'normal' human and Theo rarely felt the cold.

"Hello?" he called in to the darkness as he got to the bottom of the steps. "Lumos maxima!"

The light of his wand travelled further in to the cellar and he was able to make out two figures crouched against the far wall, the smaller of which rose and started to walk towards him.

As she got closer, Theo could see it was her. "Luna?"

"Theo?!" Luna exclaimed as she reached him, her dirtied and bruised face breaking out into a delighted smile. "Oh, Theo!" She turned to address the other figure who was still sitting against the wall. "Mr Ollivander, this is my friend Theo! From Hogwarts! We always fed the Thestrals together," Luna turned back to Theo and wrapped her cold arms around his shoulders in a tight hug. "It's so good to see you!"

* * *

A/N: Your thoughts and reviews are cherished and treasured.


	28. Thestrals

**Ch. 28 Thestrals**

 _'"They're called Thestrals. They're quite gentle really but people avoid them because they're a bit-"_

 _"Different. But why can't the others see them?"_

 _"They can only be seen by people who've seen death."_

\- Luna and Harry, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

 **Theo**

Theo had started feeding the Thestrals in his fifth year, after his class had covered them in Care of Magical Creatures. He'd been able to see them since his first day of school, of course, drawing the carriages from Hogsmeade Station, but he'd appreciated having them formally explained during the lesson, and it had been interesting to learn who else could see them. He'd always been drawn to them. There was something about their ugly beauty - the way they simultaneously intrigued and repelled people - which had made him want to come back to them.

So he'd gone to Hagrid, asking politely if he could help look after them, maybe feed them? The half-giant had looked at him suspiciously at first, eyeing his green and silver tie, and insisted on accompanying Theo during the first couple of times he went to feed them, standing with him in the clearing in the Forbidden Forest where the Thestral herd lived. Then Hagrid had obviously decided the Slytherin boy had no dishonest intentions and left him to it, letting Theo pick up the feed from Hagrid's store shed every week or so and take it to the Thestrals on his own.

It was probably Theo's third or fourth feeding trip when he entered the shed and saw, to his surprise, that the Thestrals' food was gone. He stood for a moment, staring at the empty space where the bucket of meat should have been, and finally supposed that someone else had took it - had got there before him. He strode to the forest clearing with mounting annoyance and, when he arrived, saw a barefooted girl with pale blonde hair ripping up a bloodied steak with her hands and throwing the pieces to an awaiting Thestral.

It irritated Theo that he had to share this. His time alone with the Thestrals was one of the few pleasures he had. He marched over to the feeding bucket, reached down and silently took a fat piece of meat from it. The girl turned to him in surprise as he did so, noticing him for the first time, and as their eyes met she gave him an uninhibited, kind smile. He hadn't returned it, but instead schooled his face in to hard indifference, turned to the herd and flung the piece of meat at a juvenile Thestral that seemed to be losing out on the current meal.

He'd seen the girl around school before, and with information from those memories and from what his trained eye had taken in of her during the brief glance they'd just exchanged, he surmised: Ravenclaw from the tie, third or fourth year. Her odd attire - or lack of attire, if the feet were anything to go by - and the fact she was spending time with shunned, misunderstood creatures meant she probably wasn't prepared to compromise herself to fit in. Hence, she possibly found it hard to make friends. So maybe she was a loner. Like him.

"Hello," the girl said then in a light, friendly voice, catching Theo off guard.

He grunted in response. He wasn't there to speak to her. He was there to be with the Thestrals. Preferably alone. But then he thought that maybe she'd wanted the same thing - to be alone - and that he was equally guilty of stealing solitude from her, and his irritation dissipated somewhat.

They carried on feeding the winged horses in silence. She didn't try to speak to him again, which surprised him, but for which he was grateful. He hated small talk, and surely they would have nothing _real_ to say to each other. After a little while, he even forgot she was there - well, he knew she was there, but he stopped being bothered by her presence. It was a comfortable silence, only broken now and again by the sounds of the forest or the Thestrals, as they made a contented neighing sound or stamped their feet in impatience, depending on how hungry they were.

When the last of the feed was gone, he noticed how she tentatively approached the animals, letting the younger ones lick the blood off her hands. She surprised him again when she started talking to them in a gentle, low voice, although he couldn't hear what she was saying. The beasts even let her softly stroke their folded wings as she continued her whispering monologue.

Theo noted how comfortable the magical creatures were with her and how she seemed to be really communicating with them; how they seemed to _know_ each other- this herd of Thestrals and this strange Ravenclaw girl. As he watched, he almost felt left out. But he was used to standing on the outskirts looking in - always the observer, never the participant - so that was okay. Then she finally walked away from the animals, towards him and the empty feed bucket.

"Well, bye then," she said pleasantly, as if they'd spent the last hour in agreeable, good-humoured conversation.

And before he could respond, she bent down to take the bucket and walked away.

* * *

She beat him to it the next time as well, and he thought he'd got to the store shed early that day too. But he wasn't annoyed this time though, which made him acknowledge that a part of him didn't mind if he saw her again.

"I'm Luna," she said as he approached the bucket and grabbed a thick steak from it.

"Theo," he responded coldly.

"Hello, Theo," she greeted pleasantly, apparently unfazed by his aloofness.

He hadn't heard his name spoken like that in a long time, except by maybe Daphne. With kindness and warmth and innocence. Like how his mother used to say it. And he felt that place inside him stir and the energy it took to push the lid down on it meant he wasn't able to respond to her further.

And that was it, that was all they said to each other for that hour or so they spent amongst the trees and the Thestrals, except when she said goodbye to him at the end and he managed to reply with a "bye" too.

* * *

The third time they happened to be with the Thestrals together, a month or so later, she asked a question seemingly out the blue. They'd been conducting the feed in their usual silence for about half an hour up until then.

"Do you think they can see each other?" Her voice was really quite extraordinary. It rose up and down like she was singing.

"What?" he said, a little taken aback by the fact she'd spoken words that weren't "hello" or "goodbye", as well as the oddness of the question.

"Well, we can only see them if we've seen death, do you think they need to see death before they can see each other?"

He had to admit, it was an interesting question, and contemplating the answer made him forget his normal reserve, and reply quite naturally. "I'm pretty sure they can see each other - you can tell by their behaviour - and I doubt all of them have seen death. Besides, you don't need to have just witnessed death, but also have an emotional understanding of what death means to be able to see them."

"Oh, I'm sure they have an emotional understanding of death," she replied confidently.

"Some _humans_ find it hard to grasp what death truly means, Luna," he said. "I'm not sure if Thestrals' thinking is that sophisticated."

She looked thoughtfully at him then. "I think you underestimate them Theo," was all she said in reply.

* * *

Then, a few weeks later, when one of the Thestrals had given birth, Luna was delighted. She turned to Theo with a smile that lit up her eyes in a way he hadn't seen before.

"Look, Theo! Isn't it lovely how his mother knows exactly what to do to look after him?" she cried with an uninhibited joy that unnerved him. This was how people made themselves vulnerable, wearing their hearts on their sleeves like this. "And she always seems to know where he is too. Motherly love is amazing, isn't it?"

There was far, far too much in what she'd said to trigger Theo so he found himself aggressively tossing the meat he'd been holding at a nearby Thestral and clumsily hitting it on the head.

"It's survival," he spat out. Then, at Luna's questioning look, he continued. "Survival of the species. She has to look after him so her offspring will survive. It's fundamentally selfish, just looks like what we call love."

"Oh. I suppose that's in interesting way to think about it," Luna said in a genuinely curious tone.

And he wondered, not for the first time, who it was that she'd seen die.

And so the shared feeding sessions continued like that for most of his fifth year: mostly an easy, comfortable silence punctuated with short conversations, that usually started with an odd question or statement from Luna - about the Thestrals, the forest, the weather, or some magical animal he'd never heard of. But she rarely talked about school - about classes, or houses, or teachers, or Quidditch - for which he was grateful. It was like, for that brief time, none of that existed. Outside of the forest, they only acknowledged each other with brief glances - an unspoken understanding had passed between them that that was all he was able to manage.

* * *

But when her father printed that Quibbler edition, Theo feared it had all been ruined. The edition in which her father, via Potter, outed Theo's father as a Death Eater. After that had made its way through the school's grapevine, people who had previously looked through Theo, unseeing, now looked at him with curiosity, others with fear, some hate, and a small few with admiration. None of which he had wanted of course. He would have preferred to have remained invisible.

It was more than unfortunate that he happened to be with Pansy and Goyle when they'd decided to exact their revenge on Luna. Pansy was acting out of loyalty to Draco of course. Or maybe not - maybe for Pansy it was just an excuse to persecute and bully.

He was walking with them across the main courtyard during a busy break time when Pansy spied Luna making her way up the steps to the entrance of the castle.

"Come on Greg, Theo," Pansy encouraged, with a hint of spite in her voice, as she sped up towards the castle entrance. Whilst they were still several meters away from Luna, Pansy thrust her wand towards her victim, causing Luna's skirt to defy gravity and rise up uncompromisingly into the air. As Luna's pale legs and floral underwear were revealed to the fifty or so students that were milling in the courtyard, jeering and laughter started to trickle through the crowd.

It was a childish and common jinx, done countless times, usually by girls to other girls, but cruel and humiliating nonetheless. Theo kept up with Pansy and Goyle as they hurried towards Luna, who was looking around confusedly for her assailant. When the three reached her, Pansy gave Luna a violent shove, sending her stumbling backward and sprawling on to the hard stone, her skirt riding up around her thighs for a second time. Goyle stood over her, his wand drawn.

"You need to watch you fucking back Lovegood - "

"Hey!" someone shouted, interrupting Goyle's threat and Theo looked up to see Ginny Weasley running towards them, all blazing look and flying copper hair. As Pansy and Goyle went to walk away, apparently satisfied that their work was done, Theo caught Luna's eyes, and for once desperately tried to communicate something with them: _sorry_. To his amazement, Luna gave him a small smile just before Weasley reached them.

The red-head looked Theo up and down with disgust, as if amazed he still had the nerve to be standing there.

"Piss off!" she spat at him, the epitome of indignation, as she reached out a hand to help Luna up. And so Theo turned and walked away, with a growing affection for the youngest Weasley - for the way she had stuck up for Luna, and for her obvious fearlessness.

* * *

"I'm sorry about what Pansy and Goyle did," he said to Luna the next time they were alone with the Thestrals.

"I know you are," she replied warmly. "I could see it swimming in your eyes."

* * *

Then, at the end of his fifth year, everything changed with that battle at the Ministry. With being called up to Dumbledore's office to be told his father had been taken to Azkaban, after he'd been caught fighting on the side of the Dark Lord. The news didn't surprise Theo. Since the graveyard and Diggory's death, Theo had known something like this was brewing. He felt a mixture of emotions at hearing his father was in prison, most of which were hard to make sense of, although he could identify the relief he felt - that was piercing and obvious. But his insides twisted when he heard who the Death Eaters had been fighting - his fellow students. Including Luna.

"Is she okay? Are they okay?" The questions tripped over themselves, as Theo stood alone in front of Dumbledore's desk. The old man looked at him with a passive face and shrewd eyes. And Theo knew he'd given himself away to Dumbledore - he knew he'd shown that he cared more about his fellow students than he really should considering his background. But, judging by previous conversations he'd had with the headmaster, Theo was fairly sure the aged wizard knew that already.

"They will all be fine with some time," Dumbledore replied gently. "Theodore, I have it ask you, do you know anything about the purposes of your father's, or even Voldemort's, actions?"

"No, professor," Theo answered, which was a half-truth. He'd gathered from conversations he'd overheard during the Easter holidays that there was something about a prophecy - a prophecy about the Dark Lord and some future adversary. But that was all he knew, and even if he'd known more he didn't think he could have told Dumbledore, not with that fucking Unbreakable Vow hanging over his head.

Dumbledore smiled sadly at him and Theo could tell from his eyes that the wise old man knew he was lying. Theo desperately wanted to say more: _I have no choice but to lie for him. But I'm not like him. I don't want to be like him._ But Theo knew, glancing briefly up at the portraits that surrounded them, that even the walls of Dumbledore's office had eyes and ears. He just couldn't be sure if he would be identified as the source of any information he might give his headmaster.

"'The truth is a beautiful and terrible thing and should therefore be treated with great caution' - didn't you say that once professor?" Theo asked quietly. It was a rhetorical question - he knew the words were Dumbledore's - it was just Theo's clumsy attempt at communicating something that had to remain unspoken.

"I did," the headmaster conceded, smiling knowingly. "You know young Theodore, it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be that is important. I have told another student that recently. I feel it is important I tell you that too."

"Yes, professor," Theo replied, bitterly aware that Dumbledore had more hope than Theo did that a Slytherin-son-of-a-Death-Eater could choose a different path from the one had that been laid out for him.

"Now, I'm aware your mother is no longer with you and your brother is staying in Estonia this summer. Do you have somewhere to go for the holidays?"

"The Greengrass'" Theo responded automatically. "I'm sure - I think- they'll have me."

"Very well."

* * *

Afterwards, Theo repeatedly wondered, with a sickness and fury churning in him, whether Luna had dueled his father; what curses his own father might have sent her way. He decided to broach the subject with her the next time they were alone together in the forest because he couldn't stand for this to be something that sat silently between them, heavy and toxic and ruining things.

But the few times he went to the clearing before the end of fifth year, she wasn't there. So he fed the Thestrals alone, with only the creatures themselves and the sounds of the forest for company.

* * *

To his relief though, when he came back for his sixth year, Luna returned to the clearing - standing barefoot again on the muddied ground, her hair dancing around her head in the breeze. But she was different: guarded and quiet and he noticed more than once her hand slip in to her wand pocket, giving it a reassuring check. He silently raged at this, at how this was something else good and pure that his father had tainted.

But she kept coming back. Which meant she couldn't have felt that threatened, that scared of him. Or that disgusted.

"Who was it Theo, that you saw die?" Luna asked gently, a month or so into their sixth year.

Surprisingly, Theo found that he didn't mind Luna asking him this question. He realised he'd grown to feel comfortable with her, less threatened. And he was also grateful - grateful that, after all that had happened, all that _was_ happening, she was still talking to him, as if she wasn't scared of him or repulsed by him. And that she still seemed to _like_ him enough to be curious about what had happened to him.

"My mother," he managed to say.

"Oh. My mother's dead too." And Luna preceded to tell him quite matter-of-factly about her mother's curiosity and experimentation and the awful-sounding nature of her death.

"That sounds - nasty. Sorry," he said when she finished.

"That's okay. I've still got dad," Luna replied contentedly and he momentarily envied her for the obvious comfort her father gave her. "I'm sorry about your mother too."

Theo only nodded then because he found he wasn't able to speak, and was grateful that Luna didn't ask anymore.

"And then there was Sirius Black," she said after a moment.

"What?" It took Theo a moment to recall who Sirius Black was.

"At the Department of Mysteries last year. He went through the veil. But I shouldn't really talk about that to you," she said casually, as if she'd been about to share something as trivial as Quidditch tactics with an opposing side.

She really was rather odd. But in quite a wonderful way.

"You're looking well this year. Less...hungry," Luna observed before they left, looking him up and down.

Her lack of tact had started to amuse him. And on this occasion, her observation was accurate: since his father had been in Azkaban, he'd felt less... _sick_. A knot in his stomach had unwound just a little bit and his appetite had increased. He'd gone from skinny and scrawny to filled-out looking, his shoulders broadening and muscles strengthening.

"Thanks Luna," was the only thing he could think to say in reply.

And so, through his sixth year, things between them settled back into an amicable rhythm, and their encounters evolved from being coincidental to pre-planned . Theo wasn't sure if they'd ever actually had a conversation about it, but they seemed to always end up in that clearing at the same time every week. He even started looking forward to seeing her. The time with her always felt like an escape from the increasing atmosphere of hostility and threat that had began to permeate the school and beyond. There was a comfortable calmness in that clearing that Theo knew only Luna's unique presence provided.

But Theo barely saw Luna in his seventh year. There was one time, on the first week of term, before the horror of the Carrows' regime had really taken its hold on the castle, when they had been alone feeding the Thestrals together. But then Luna had seemed to retreat in to the group of her fellow Potter supporters and he didn't see her in the forest again until the last week of term.

He'd been surprised to see her, considering the prohibitions Snape had enforced after the massive failure that was the sword-stealing debacle. Luna explained her presence by saying something about sneaking into the forest under the guise of moving fertiliser for Professor Sprout. The sky was clear and blue that day, and snow had settled on the frozen ground, which meant she was wearing shoes for once. Albeit some Muggle Converses which must have been soaked through.

"Most people think Thestrals are ugly. But I think they're quite beautiful," Luna commented once the feeding bucket was empty. Theo grunted in response. "They have a beautiful nature - they're kind and gentle - and they really look after each other. It's a shame people can't see past their outside. When they're able to see them at all, of course."

Luna turned to him then, her grey-blue eyes burrowing into his, her face serious but calm.

"I wonder what it's like for the Thestrals. For people to be unable to see you at all or, if they did, for them to never really see your true nature," she continued, and he had an uncanny sense that she was looking right through to the centre of him, to that ugly, stirring place, but she was looking at it with acceptance and compassion, rather than pity or disgust.

"It's survival again Luna," Theo replied tightly, fighting a powerful urge to look away from her piercing eyes. "Self protection. People who can see them perceive them as either ugly or dangerous. And people stay away from you when they're disgusted or scared of you. And if people stay away then they're less likely to harm you, or attack. Self protection."

"Oh. It just seems like it could be quite alienating for them..." Luna commented lightly, turning towards the herd again and throwing a steak at the foot of one of the older horses. "I suppose it would be quite lonely if they didn't have each other."

"Again - survival. They know they'll survive better if they stay in a group."

"Like humans."

"Yes."

"It would be a shame if they didn't like each other. Then they'd be stuck in a group, alienated from all the other animals, with only those of their own kind for company. And that would be _really_ lonely," Luna turned to him again, her eyes intense and knowing. And Theo felt lost then - because he really wasn't sure if they were talking about the Thestrals anymore. "But they seem to get on well, don't they?" Luna continued lightly.

"Yes. Yeah, they do."

"I hope you have a good Christmas, Theo," Luna said as they walked out of the clearing together.

He nodded. "You too," he mumbled.

 _But she hadn't, had she?_ Theo thought now, in the early hours of New Year's Day 1998, as he felt her cold arms around his shoulders. _She'd been locked in this fucking cellar in Malfoy Manor, hadn't she?_

* * *

A/N: I am actually quite a fan of Lunadore (Thuna? MoonNott?) and would have had Luna/Theo as the main pairing on this fic if it was canon that Luna stays at Hogwarts for the whole of seventh year...but substituting her with Parvati actually made quite a different story/relationship, which evolved in its own exciting way! So, this chapter was me indulging my Lunadore love, making them have a special platonic relationship. It's spawned a whole separate Lunadore fic which I might get round to finishing and posting one day...

Huge thanks to my beta Rachael.

As always, comments and thoughts are cherished and treasured.


	29. Alliances

**Ch. 29 Alliances**

 _'"We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided."'_

― Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

 ** **Theo****

Theo couldn't remember anyone's arms feeling like Luna's did as she pulled him to her in the dark of the cellar. Even though she was shaking from the cold, there was an affection, warmth and innocence in her embrace, causing that cauldron within him to awaken and bubble. Maybe he'd similarly cuddled with Daphne like this, when they'd been younger. And he knew, if he dug deep, he'd have memories of his mother hugging him like this, but he didn't allow himself to remember that fully. But with Cressida, and even Parvati, the embraces had been in the heat of something else.

Theo reciprocated the hug somewhat awkwardly and then drew back, away from Luna's arms.

"Are you okay?" he asked her urgently. Stupid question. Of course she wasn't: locked in a Death Eater cellar, with an eye covered in purple and black bruises and a cut to her lip.

"Yes, thank you, Theo. How are you?" Her voice, remarkably, still had that familiar lilting serenity to it.

"Fine," he said dismissively. "We need to get you out of here."

"I don't think that would be a good idea."

"What?" he snapped.

"Well, when they find out I'm gone, they'll know someone helped us - and by 'us', I mean, I couldn't leave Mr Ollivander here on his own - and they'll go after everyone indiscriminately unless you own up - and I don't want you getting in trouble too. And, if I'm gone, they'll probably go after my father - the reason I'm here is the only reason he's being left alone I'd imagine - he is being left alone, isn't he? He is okay?" It was the first time Theo had heard anxiety in her voice and saw it in her face - in the furrowing of her brow.

"As far as I know, he's fine Luna," Theo reassured.

"So, I think it's best if I stay here -"

"But Luna -"

"It's okay. After the first few days, they've mostly left me alone. Pettigrew brings us food. I think they've mostly forgotten I'm here."

"But -"

"There is one thing you could do for me though -"

"What?" Theo asked eagerly.

"There's a galleon I had - it was taken from me when I got here, it's sewed into the lining of my small purple bag. I think Narcissa took it."

"A galleon? Luna, I could give you a _hundred_ galleons - but I don't think they'll get you out of this cellar."

"Oh, I know. But it's a special galleon…" Luna trailed off but continued to look into his eyes with a penetrating stare, and Theo understood what she was communicating with it: that the galleon was useful and needed, but it was better for both of them if Luna didn't share its secrets. Theo knew she was right. Recently, he had thought more and more about Voldemort's advanced legilimency skills, and realised the less people knew of others' secrets, the less people were in danger.

Theo couldn't fault Luna's logic - it would endanger her father, and probably others as too, if he helped her escape. He hated the feeling of helplessness at the thought of leaving Luna here. But, if there was one thing he'd learned about Luna Lovegood it was that, although she may look as fragile as one of Trelawney's crystal balls, her will was as strong as a mountain troll's right hook.

"Of course I'll get you that galleon," Theo said resignedly. "And here, take this." Theo took off his jumper, held it out in front of him, pointed his wand at it and recited several incantations in succession. The jumper unfurled and enlarged, transforming in to a large, thick blanket which he handed to Luna. "I've charmed it so it keeps the heat. It should keep you both warm. But everyone else will just see it as an old rag."

Luna's face broke in to one of her delighted smiles and she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, snuggling in to it. "Thank you, Theo. It's lovely."

Theo nodded shortly in acknowledgement of Luna's gratitude. And then he forced himself to say the next words, even though it risked the turmoil inside him to shift and spill over, because she deserved it. She deserved so much more but it was all he could give her in that moment:

"I'm sorry Luna. I'm sorry this has happened to you."

After Theo exited the cellar, he carefully locked the door and re-conjured the Malfoy's protective spells. His first guess was that Luna's bag would be somewhere in Narcissa's bedroom - they wouldn't have thought it valuable enough to keep in the family safe. And it would be best to try and get it tomorrow, when Narcissa was hosting the New Year's Day lunch; she prided herself on her hosting skills and would hate to be away from her guests.

As Theo started to head up the hallway to his bedroom, his stomach churned queasily and he realised his mouth was parched. He needed to down some water and preferably eat something to ward off the worst of the inevitable hangover he'd wake up with tomorrow. So he headed to the kitchen, and as he entered saw a figure sitting at the long wooden table, nursing a mug of hot milk in her hands and clad in blue and grey checkered pajamas.

"Hey, Daphne," he said as he walked over to a shelf and grabbed a goblet.

"Hey. Couldn't sleep," Daphne explained. "Cressida chucked you out of her bed?"

"No..." Theo debated telling Daphne the truth, about who was locked in the damp and cold under their feet whilst they sipped on hot milk before slipping into soft, warm beds, but thinking again of Voldemort's legilimency, decided it was more… _containing_ not too. "Couldn't sleep either," It was partly true. "Nice PJs," he commented as he filled his goblet with water and grabbed some crackers from the pantry. "Very... _Ravenclaw_ ," he finished as he sat down next to his Daphne. Normally, commenting to a Slytherin that they owned something that sported the colours of another Hogwarts house was the epitome of insulting. But rather than looking offended, Daphne smiled smugly.

"Thanks. They were a Christmas present."

A draft blew in through the door of the kitchen then, causing Daphne to shiver involuntarily and for Theo to instinctively put his arm around her shoulder. Daphne placed her mug down and wrapped both her arms tightly around his waist, leaning her face in to the crook of his shoulder. As was usually the case when they were alone together, Daphne's ice queen persona was non-existent. Theo could smell the new cotton of her pajamas, but there was something else as well - just a small hint of that other scent he had smelt on her numerous times last term - so familiar yet not so. But why would her new pajamas smell of it?...Or rather, of _them_?

"Who're they from?" Theo dug for information.

"A friend," Daphne stated with amicable finality.

"Right." And he left it there because he appreciated that Daphne was entitled to her secrets too.

"I love how you're always so _warm_ , Theo." Daphne said gratefully, nuzzling her face in to the fabric of his shirt. "Do you remember when we used to crash in each other's beds and I used to say you're like my giant human hot -"

"Hot water bottle. I remember," Theo finished softly. They had often ended up sleeping in each other beds, before adolescence had come along and made it awkward.

"Will you do that tonight, Theo? Come and crash in my bed...things have been...it would make it less lonely...I promise I won't accidentally kick you?"

Theo smiled. "Sure, Phenie," he replied gently.

* * *

 ** **Lavender****

It was late afternoon on New Year's Eve and Lavender was seating herself at the kitchen table, whilst her mother, Iris Brown, meticulously charmed 'Thank you' cards to those that had gifted them Christmas presents. Her father had had to travel abroad for work and had departed on Boxing Day morning; he had spent more time abroad than in the UK for the last few years of his daughter's life.

Iris had just called her daughter down from her bedroom for 'a chat' and Lavender, with a sinking heart, had known what that meant: the obligatory talk that her mother contrived every holiday, wherein she dissected the events of the previous school term and all of Lavender's failings, and laid forth plans for Lavender's term ahead.

Iris glanced sharply across at Lavender's hand as her daughter sat down. "I'm really disappointed that you've managed to be marked as a blood traitor Lavender. It's shameful. It really is."

And so it begins, Lavender thought, as she looked down at the pinky-white scar on her hand. The phoenix tears had held up; the wound hadn't bothered her since it had been doused in them. She didn't respond to her mother's comment. She had tried several times over the holidays to tell her mother about the Book Burning, the Crucios, about the mutilation of Seamus' hand and the full horror of the Carrows' regime at Hogwarts, but as usual her mother seemed to filter out all information that contradicted her current world view. A view which seemed to shift whenever the tides of power in the wizarding world did.

"It looks like your allegiances aren't in the right place, do you see what I'm saying?" her mother continued, her voice cold and clipped. "I know things feel very tense at the moment; none of us are sure how this conflict will turn out, and we need to be careful about how are loyalties are perceived."

Lavender felt a flush of anger at her mother's now-familiar lack of principles, at her tendency to shamelessly change sides depending on who seemed to be gaining more power and who was more likely to win this war. When her parents had been at Hogwarts, her mother had been in Slytherin house and her father in Gryffindor and they'd told her many stories of how they had overcome house rivalries to be together. But as the years had gone on, Lavender had noticed, with growing disappointment, how her mother embodied the less desirable traits of her old house: she could be fickle and power-hungry, snobby and hypocritical.

"I'm not sure…what exactly you _are_ saying, mother?" Lavender said the words slowly in an effort to keep her voice calm.

"Well, I think it would be prudent for you to distance yourself from these blood traitors and show more enthusiasm for the pure-blood cause."

"What?" Lavender snapped, quickly losing the battle with her own rage. "Before the start of my sixth year you were saying I should try and ' _claim'_ Ronald Weasley! And the Weasleys are the most notorious of blood traitors!"

Lavender remembered the conversation she had had with her mother a week or so before she was due to travel to Hogwarts for her penultimate year. The family had been sat around the table at breakfast and her mother had lowered The Daily Prophet which she had been reading, giving her daughter a scrutinising look. Lavender's guard had gone up as she'd recognised that look: her mother was scheming.

"Harry Potter," her mother had started. "Are you friends with him?"

Lavender had frowned, trying to second guess where the conversation was going. That summer, the press regarding Harry had been positive and glowing: ' _The Chosen One…the Boy-Who-Lived…exceptional magical talent…will he save the wizarding world a second time?_ ', etcetera, etcetera.

"Not really..." Lavender had replied and then, at her mother's disappointed look: "I mean, kind of…" Did being in Dumbledore's Army mean she was friends with Harry? "We're in the same house, so we share a lot of classes of course…but at the beginning of my fifth year you said I should have nothing to do with him because people thought he was lying about You-Know-Who?"

"Yes, well, things have changed now of course. _Now_ , he may be a good person to know Lavender," her mother had said conspiratorially.

"Yes, mum…" Lavender had responded hesitantly.

"And what about these two?" her mother had asked, jabbing her finger at a picture in the Prophet. "Are they his friends?"

"Yes. Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger," Lavender had replied in a resigned voice.

"But you're not part of their circle?" Again, the disappointed voice.

"Well…Hermione and I are quite…different."

"Well, things have changed Lavender, and we have to keep up. Weasley...they're one of the old pure-blood families, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight? And this Weasley boy is best friends with the Boy-Who-Lived." Her mother had looked at her pointedly.

"So he's the Boy-Who-Lived now, not the boy-who-lied?" Lavender hadn't been able to hide the irritation in her voice. "Mum...I don't really hang out with Ron. I've told you about my male friends - Seamus and Dean?"

"Oh, the Muggle-born and half-blood Irish boy?" her mother had said dismissively. "Sometimes, Lavender, people drift apart and we form new bonds...he looks rather nice this Weasley boy - I think you'd look good together."

"Right. Well…he always seemed quite fun...maybe I could hang out with him more," Lavender had said hopefully.

"Yes, yes, lovely idea Lavender," her mother had said with unusual affection in her voice and, despite herself, Lavender had basked in the rare praise.

So she had convinced herself that she did, in fact, like Ron Weasley - well, she'd never disliked him - but, in wanting to gain her mother's approval, Lavender had convinced herself that she _really_ liked him - fancied him - so she'd started her campaign to win him over. She had always been naturally sentimental, yes, but she added 'fun' and 'flirty' and 'shallow' to the mix too, because that's what boys liked, wasn't it? They were intimidated by girls that were too assertive or intelligent, that's what her mother had advised her.

But how wrong she had been, Lavender thought now with shame, remembering that Ron had liked Hermione the whole time - bookish and uncompromising and earnest Hermione Granger. Ron's final rejection hadn't hurt because it was a rejection by _him_ , but because it would mean further rejection by her mother. It had been another one of Lavender's failings that her mother had added to the growing list.

"Well, darling, things have changed again now. We need to move with the times. Keep up," her mother was saying now, as the setting sun began to cast low rays of light across the Brown's kitchen.

"So what exactly are you saying?" Lavender exclaimed, her voice rising higher as she spoke. "I should make friends with the Death Eater kids? Join the I.S.? Casually punish my housemates with Unforgivables!?"

"Oh Lavender, don't be so dramatic. You do disappointment me sometimes."

Sometimes? It felt, to Lavender, that she was a _continual_ disappointment to her mother. She had only recently resigned herself to never being able to live up to what Iris wanted in a daughter: her hair was too frizzy, her eyes too small - "shame you're not prettier, like the that Fleur Delacour"; her grades not high enough - "why can't you try harder, like that Hermione Granger must do?"; not talented enough, like Harry Potter; not charming enough, "like Parvati - such a lovely girl."

Her mother's words of dissatisfaction and disappointment still cut through her like knives, although the wounds they left were not as deep as in previous years. Because over the last school term and everything that had happened during it, Lavender's belief in what was right - and _doing_ what was right - had become more importance than gaining her mother's approval.

Back on that very first day of school, the Sorting Hat had deliberated placing Lavender into Slytherin, and she'd often wondered since whether she really belonged there. But in the last few months, it was like the lion in her had woken from a long, deep sleep and let out an almighty roar. And Lavender had decided to _not_ be like her mother - to not change loyalties as easily as the wind changed direction, but to decide on her morals and stick to them, no matter how difficult, or dangerous.

She knew now what side she was on - she'd probably known since that day she'd walked in to the Hogshead, for what would end up being the first meeting of the D.A. And the events of the last term had cemented that intent. She was still scared - about how Hogwarts might change even more next term, and what that would be like for those of them that had a 'blood traitor' scar on their hands. But in re-joining the D.A., in taking a stand, in being punished with Alecto's curse, she had finally started to find a way of being herself and not clumsily attempting to be the person her mother wanted her to be. She knew, deep down, that she still wanted - craved - her mother's approval but during the last term she had started to feel a sense of acceptance - a sense of belonging and purpose - which hadn't relied on her mother's words or praise.

In effect, being cut with the 'blood traitor' mark was perversely one of the best things that had happened to Lavender Brown.

"All I mean is," her mother continued, cold eyes looking at her sharply. "Just…be more… _pragmatic_...when demonstrating your allegiances."

"Right," Lavender said tightly, then clamped her mouth closed to shut out the words that she feared might spill from it. Her mother returned to her thank you cards, indicating the conversation was over and her daughter was dismissed. Lavender rose abruptly from the table, her chair scraping loudly across the floor, and went to leave the kitchen.

"Oh Lavender, change your skirt before we go to dinner," her mother called casually after her. "Your legs look awful in that. The length isn't flattering at all - they look all fat and stubby."

In earlier years, it was likely that Lavender would have felt the hot sting of tears at her mother's parting words. She may have gone to the mirror in her bedroom, scrutinising all the imperfections that Iris routinely pointed out, working herself up so much that she would end up pointing her wand at the glass, causing cracks to form in her reflection and the mirror to smash to pieces at her feet.

But not anymore.

After a half-arsed attempt at looking in her wardrobe for a different skirt, Lavender decided to keep the one she was wearing on. Because, well, she liked it and because it was seasonal, so she didn't get to wear it for most of the year. She would keep it on and enjoy it, despite the inevitable critical comments that would come her way later, gaining strength from the mark on her hand and all that it meant to her.

* * *

A/N: I'd love to know what you think of my take on Lavender!  
Your comments/thoughts etc are, as always, treasured and cherished.

Huge thanks to my beta Rachael.


	30. Comedown

**Ch. 30 Comedown**

 _"Killing is not so easy as the innocent believe."_

― Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.  
 **Theo**

Theo wandered into one of the numerous reception rooms of Malfoy Manor on the morning of New Year's Day 1998. Pansy was sitting on a sofa with her special 'hangover-cure' tea laid out on a table by her side. She always had the house elves brew it especially for her after a night of over-indulgence. Blaise, Daphne, Cressida and Millie were sat about the rest of the room. The air hung with a lethargic, languid atmosphere; people's movements were slow and their voices hushed: the morning after the night before.

"Where's Draco?" Theo enquired as he sat down next to Daphne, who was leafing through _The Daily Prophet._

"Bad comedown. He did a lot of Somnium last night," Pansy informed Theo, as she leaned forward to gingerly replace her teacup in its saucer.

Comedowns from Somnium Beatus were notoriously unpleasant. People fell down a rabbit hole of fear and anguish, triggering 'terror-turns', or what Muggles called 'panic attacks'.

"Is someone checking on him?" Theo asked, concern poking at the edges of his conscience.

Pansy shrugged indifferently. "He told me, in no uncertain terms, to get out his bedroom this morning. I'm sure he'll be fine."

The group's attention was then turned to Humpity, who had toddled into the room with a satisfied smile on his face, brandishing some items his hands. As he walked past the sofa Pansy was lounging on, he accidentally bumped into the table with her tea on it, causing it to wobble precariously and the drink to spill over the side. Immediately, Pansy struck out and smacked the elf hard across the head.

"Clumsy little fuck!" she spat. There was a moment of tense, surprised silence from the others until Millie let out a shrill laugh and Humpity started grovelling his apologies to Pansy as he bent to clean up the spilt drink. The new Death Eater in their Slytherin ranks: as batshit as Bellatrix, as short tempered and vicious as well, Theo thought.

It was one of the many times that Theo hated himself for the company he had to keep, for the people he had to call his friends.

Then Humpity continued his little toddle across the room and up to Theo, holding out a purple tie that Theo recognised as his own.

"Humpity has found some of Mr Nott's clothes whilst tidying. Humpity thought he'd return them to him personally. This was in Miss Cressida's room, sir."

"Thanks, Humpity," Theo murmured, grabbing the tie hastily and mentally cursing himself for having been so nice to the elf in the past. Theo ignored the knowing smiles from the others in the room; he didn't give a damn if others knew about him and Cressida, but he hadn't wanted to embarrass her. His gaze subtly slid over to her but she was continuing to read _Witch Weekly_ as if nothing had happened, although Theo was sure he saw her lips quirk up as if in amusement.

"And this sir, this was in Miss Daphne's room," Humpity continued, and to Theo's horror, held out Theo's shirt to him.

"Shit," Theo mumbled as he snatched the shirt out of the elf's hand.

Quiet chuckling emitted from Blaise and Millie as Humpity waddled out the room.

"Busy night, Theo?" Blaise asked through an amused smirk. Theo remained silent; he didn't think the question warranted a response. "Who got _seconds_ is what I want to know," Blaise continued mercilessly, his heading swinging between Cressida and Daphne, as he grinned like the bloody Cheshire cat.

Daphne rolled her eyes, her face stony as she continued to flick through the _Prophet_ , ice-queen persona well and truly employed. She seemed about to speak when Cressida snapped, "Really Theo? _Really_?" Her tone was half-disappointed and half-pissed off. She sprang up abruptly from her chair and stormed out the room, muttering, "For fucks sake..."

After a moment of indecision, Theo rose from his seat to go after her.

"He just ended up crashing in my bed. Nothing happened," Theo heard Daphne saying dispassionately as he left the room.

"It's okay, Daphne. Theo's got hot this year. No one would blame you..." Pansy's sardonic tone followed Theo into the hallway, as he went in search of Cressida.

He found her on the raised terrace that overlooked the manicured gardens that the Notts and Greengrass' had portkeyed into the night before. It was an icy morning, and the grass glinted with a carpet of frozen dew. Cressida stood facing the grounds, leaning against the stonewall of the terrace, smoking a cigarette. Theo went to stand next to her, shifting awkwardly as he scoured his mind, thinking how best to explain - to apologise. But Cressida spoke first, keeping her gaze straight ahead of her.

"I agreed I didn't want anything serious, Theo," her voice was calm. "But I didn't want to be humiliated either."

"I know - I'm sorry - nothing happened. I just ended up crashing in her bed..." Theo echoed Daphne's words from moments before. Because he didn't want to out Daphne, but didn't want to have had made Cressida feel like shit either. Why was he always caught in this kind of no-fucking-win situation? "Nothing happened, I promise..." he repeated, pathetically.

"I know." Cressida dragged slowly on her cigarette.

"You do?" he asked stupidly.

"Daphne's gay, right?" Cressida turned her head slightly, looking at him out the corner of her eye, and he was reminded again of how dangerously perceptive she was. Theo paused too long before responding - and it seemed his silence was confirmation enough. "I've seen the way she looks at guys. Or _doesn't_. And how she looks at girls. But the problem is it _looks_ like something did happen. Which makes _me_ look stupid. And I know _you_ , out of all people, know the importance of how things appear, Theo," she turned to look directly at him, her eyes penetrating. "Don't worry, I'm not going to out her. I'll be back in New York again soon and this will just seem like any other bullshit Malfoy party."

There was a pause and Theo felt himself relax. He was relieved that Cressida wasn't going to spill Daphne's secrets, despite the need she might have to save face.

"Thanks," he said gratefully.

Cressida smiled wryly. "Just don't fucking do it again. To me or any other girl. Think a bit next time..."

He nodded in agreement, and they remained in companionable silence for a few minutes, both looking out at the naked branches of the apple trees that graced the orchard on the edge of the Malfoy estate.

"Where were you last night, Theo?" Cressida asked after a moment or so, her voice pensive.

Theo tensed - did she know about the cellar? Or did she want more details of how he'd ended up in Daphne's bed? "I woke up when I was with you, I heard Pansy fall down outside -"

"No, I don't mean physically," Cressida interrupted. "I mean mentally. When we were fucking. Your mind was somewhere else," she stated contemplatively.

"I -" he faltered. He hadn't been prepared for this.

"I could tell. You were - it was good, don't get me wrong- but you were different. Your mind was somewhere else. _Thinking_ of _someone_ else?" she asked, her voice changing into something lighter and mocking as she turned to him with a knowing smile on her face.

 _Shit_.

"I -" he hesitated, trying to think, but again, his hesitation was confirmation in itself. He was normally good at lying, what the fuck was happening to him?

"Who is she?" Cressida didn't sound angry, just...curious.

He shook his head, looking away from her and focusing his eyes below them, on the ridiculous snowmen that had greeted them last night, trying to convey that he wasn't prepared to talk about it.

"Need to keep her a secret?" Cressida persisted, playful now. "Is she a _Muggle_?"

"Merlin _no_ , Cressida - what the fuck?"

She laughed at his incredulity. "Yeah...not sure when or where you'd get a chance to meet a Muggle long enough to fall in love with them."

"I'm not in love with her." The words snapped out before he could stop them.

Cressida stubbed her cigarette out on the wall and flicked it over the edge.

"Sure," she said casually, clearly unconvinced, and turned to face him. "I like you Theo," she continued gently. "Which is more than I can say about most of the people that were in this house last night. Maybe falling in love with the wrong girl will be good for you."

Then she reached up and planted a chaste kiss on his lips, before pulling away and smiling at him sadly. "Happy New Year, Theo." And she walked calmly back into the house, Theo staring at her retreating back.

He followed Cressida back into the mansion shortly afterwards, but instead of heading towards the sitting room, he turned up the stairs to Draco's bedroom. He'd been wanting to check on him ever since Pansy had mentioned his bad comedown.

Draco's door was locked but a quick Alohomora opened it. Three things struck Theo as he paused on the threshold of the room. One was that Draco wasn't in sight. The second thing was the mess. The room was a state: piles of clothes littered the floor, empty bottles of butterbeer and firewhiskey were scattered across the room, a Slytherin poster was ripped from the wall, and Theo saw at least two family photos out of their frame and torn in half, seemingly to deliberately separate Lucius from his wife and son. Either Draco had stopped letting the house elves into his room or he'd done all this damage this morning. Or possibly both.

The third thing that hit Theo was an overpowering smell of liquidum albineus, a magical solution which acted - and smelt - similar to Muggle bleach. And more disconcertingly, Theo picked up the metallic smell of blood mingling with the intense scent of the whitening solution _._

Theo heard a scuffle and the sound of metal clattering against ceramic coming from Draco's en-suite bathroom. He strode over to its door and knocked on it loudly.

"Draco, mate?" he called. The only response was an incoherent muttering, followed by what sounded like a whimper. Theo tried the door. It swung open without protest.

Draco was sitting on the floor of the bathroom, leaning against the wall with his left forearm stretched out in front of him. He was urgently scrubbing at his Dark Mark with his other hand, muttering furiously to himself as tears ran down his cheeks.

Theo entered the bathroom and locked the door after him. He didn't want anyone else to see Draco in this state - helpless and vulnerable. There were too many people that could exploit it.

"Draco," Theo said louder, crouching down in front of his housemate. Draco looked up from his task and gazed at Theo, as if seeing him for the first time. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, the dark circles under them contrasting with his pale skin. Beads of sweat peppered the boys forehead, before running down his face and mingling with his tears. It was clear Draco was in the midst of a very dark comedown.

"I can't get it off Theo, I can't get it off!" Draco declared desperately.

The cloth that Draco was vigorously scrubbing against his Dark Mark reeked of liquidum albineus, and Theo noted an open bottle of the solution next to Draco on the floor, along with a sharp kitchen knife which dripped with blood. Theo's stomach turned nauseatingly.

"Okay mate, let me have a look, let me help you," Theo cajoled softly, reaching out and gently touching Draco's scrubbing hand. Theo slowly prised it away from his left arm.

Draco's Dark Mark was encircled with a line of fresh, seeping blood, where someone - no doubt Draco - had cut crudely around its perimeter. The skin around the incision was red and inflamed, clearly the result of the albineus that had been rubbed into it. All remaining skin was whiter than Draco's normal complexion, if that were possible. Except for the mark itself, which hadn't changed at all.

"I tried to cut it off first, you see," Draco said in a childlike tone. "But I thought, that wouldn't do. So I tried albineus. Will you help me Theo?" Draco pleaded. "I need to get it off, you see."

"Yeah mate, I get it. Hang on," Theo said soothingly. He stood and started scrabbling around Draco's bathroom cabinet, finally finding a sleeping draught.

"Here mate," Theo said, squatting down in front of Draco again. "Drink some of this. It'll help."

Draco eyes flitted between Theo and the potion bottle, frowning.

"It'll help to get the mark off," Theo lied. "You need to drink it though."

Draco reached out, took the bottle with shaking hands and raised it to his lips. Theo watched in relief as Draco downed its contents. A few seconds later, Draco's eyes glazed over, fluttered shut and his head fell back against the wall behind him.

"Come on, mate," Theo said to the now unconscious Draco as he lifted the boy to his bed with the help of Mobilicorpus. Draco fell onto his bed like a dead weight. Theo tried some healing spells on Draco's arm, which halted the bleeding and reduced the inflammation somewhat, but he was still concerned Draco might scratch and irritate the mark in his sleep. And it was likely Draco's slumber was going to be disturbed by cold sweats and dark dreams.

By the time Theo had arranged Draco's blankets round him and cleared up the worst of the mess in the bedroom, he'd made a plan. He left the room in search of Narcissa and found her in the dining room, arranging the table for the New Year's Day lunch. Or rather, instructing a house elf on how to arrange the table. Theo took her aside and explained that Draco was, "a bit unwell and was resting in bed."

"Did he overindulge last night?" Narcissa asked fondly, a hint of a smile on her lips, as if Draco had just sipped on one too many champagne flutes.

"Yeah, something like that. And he's just had a little accident - cut his arm a bit," - Narcissa's smile faded abruptly and lines of concern etched her brow, so Theo continued hastily - "But he should be fine with a bit of dittany and a bandage. I can sort it, no problem Narcissa, if you're happy for me to retrieve what's needed from your healing cabinet?"

Narcissa studied Theo silently. Theo knew the Malfoy matriarch was as astute and perceptive as any worthy Slytherin and that she understood the things that were unsaid between them: that the damage to Draco's arm was probably more severe than Theo was implying and that the circumstances around it were far from innocent. But the veneer of respectability that Narcissa desperately clung to prevented either of them voicing these truths.

Narcissa looked from Theo to the half-laid table, apparently torn between the lunch preparations and checking on her only son. "That would be very good of you, Theo. The cabinet's in the antechamber of my bedroom, you know where that is? I'll come up and see how he is in a bit."

Theo nodded, and went to turn away but Narcissa unexpectedly reached out to him, clasping his hand in her cold ones. "You're a good friend to him, aren't you Theo? I'm so glad he has a friend like you - he needs that, this year."

Theo could see the anxiety etched in the lines of Narcissa's forehead, see the disquiet in the pursing of her lips, the unease floating behind her irises. And Theo wondered, with something he tried to pretend wasn't envy: is this what it looks like - a mother's love for her son?

"Sure," Theo replied tightly, gently pulling his hand out of Narcissa's before finally turning and leaving the room.

As he'd hoped, gaining Narcissa's permission to be near the healing cabinet had given him a perfect excuse to be in her bedroom. Once he'd retrieved what he needed from the healing supplies, a simple Accio helped him find Luna's small purple bag, which floated out of a hat box at the bottom of one of Narcissa's numerous wardrobes and into his hand. Sure enough, he found a galleon sewed in to its lining, and turned it thrice in his hand before pocketing in, wondering about its secrets. Then he walked down to the kitchen, trying to look more relaxed than he felt and, as he'd hoped, found Pettigrew shuffling around in the pantry whilst two bowls of what looked like gruel sat on the table.

"Is that for the blood traitors in the cellar?" Theo asked, nodding casually at the unappetising food, before going about the guise of getting himself a drink.

Pettigrew's head snapped up from where he was rustling around in the pantry, and he looked at Theo suspiciously. Theo stared back uncompromisingly, giving him his best impassive look.

"Yes," Pettigrew responded uncertainly.

Theo barely raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement, attempting to give off the impression he'd already lost interest in the topic. Then, when Pettigrew's back was turned, he swiftly dropped the galleon into one of the bowls of gruel. It sunk slowly under the surface, like a corpse in mud. Theo was fairly sure that Luna, with her uncanny ability to perceive the unexpected and unusual, would somehow know it was there.

Before returning to Draco's room, Theo did one last thing: he raided the Malfoy's library. Their collection of rare books was unrivalled - they had a far richer selection than the Nott's, and certainly than the Hogwarts library - and Theo always took advantage of this whenever he visited Malfoy Manor. The family had kindly indulged his interest since he'd been a young boy.

Selecting a few tomes on Dark Magic that he didn't think could be found anyway else - at least, not in the U.K. - Theo returned to Draco's room. As Draco continued to sleep, Theo treated and dressed the boy's wound before he drew a chair up so that he had a view of the grounds from the window, and started to read.

Two hours later, Draco finally stirred, his hand emerging from under his bedcovers to sleepily rub his eyes. He slowly pushed himself upright and looked dazedly around his room. Theo could sense Draco's mind whirring: remembering, recalibrating, assessing his current situation. His gaze finally settled on Theo.

"How long have I been out?" he asked.

"About three hours," Theo replied.

Draco nodded imperceptibly. "I had this fucked up dream I tried to - " then Draco faltered as he spied the now blood-stained bandage tied around his left forearm. His head snapped back up at Theo, frowning - questioning.

"Shit got dark," Theo said softly, by way of explanation.

"Salazar...I didn't mean to...it was that stupid drug Blaise brewed...must have been more potent than I'm used to..."

"I know mate," Theo placated, trying to silence Draco's need to excuse his actions and to dispel his anxiety. His anxiety that, in trying to cut off his mark in the depths of a dark comedown, he'd revealed himself as some kind of traitor and displayed a fundamental betrayal of Voldemort. Draco's complexion, which had already been sallow and grey, paled to a ghostly white as he stroked his finger gently over his bandaged arm.

"Wanna talk about it?" Theo asked.

Draco looked at Theo out of the corner of his eyes, shrewd and sharp, much like his mother's look a few hours earlier. "Don't go all Hufflepuff on me," Draco replied dryly.

That was a 'no' then. And Theo didn't persist, because he understood Draco was continuing to fight a complex, conflicted battle with his own demons.

"Did you tidy?" Draco asked, turning his head slowly, taking in his bedroom for a second time.

"Yeah." There was a pause.

"Thanks," Draco said eventually. Theo half-smiled in acknowledgement.

"I prepared a reviving potion." Theo nodded to a small flask on Draco's bedside table. Draco looked at it whilst another silence stretched out between them.

"Thanks. Again. You know, you're pretty useful to have around. Why haven't we been friends before this year, Nott?"

Theo smirked and shrugged in reply, noting an unusual but not unpleasant feeling at the label of 'friend' that Draco had placed on him.

"I owe you one," Draco stated. Theo knew a Malfoy did not indebt himself to a person without fully meaning it, and so he decided to take advantage of this.

"Well. There is something you could do for me..."

Draco raised his eyebrows as if to say 'Oh, yes?'

"Occlumency..." Theo said. "You must be pretty proficient by now?

"Yeah...I suppose..."

"Think you can teach me?" Occlumency was something that Theo had realised may be invaluable to him one day, with the way the tides were turning in their world.

Draco studied his fellow Slytherin for several moments, but Theo let nothing slip in his expression. "Sure," Draco said eventually. "We can start when we get back to Hogwarts?"

"Cool." The agreement had seemed to put a natural end to their conversation, so Theo started to gather his books and leave Draco to prepare to face the world again.

"What were you reading?" Draco asked then, nodding at the books in Theo's arms.

"Some dodgy shit about these things called Horcruxes - have you heard of them?" Draco shook his head. "Really Dark Magic they are - they're receptacles for a part of someone's soul. Once the person's ripped it in two."

"Why would you want to rip your soul in two?" Draco scorned.

"Guess you could preserve half of it...which would make it harder for you to truly die. But the things you have to do to do it..." Theo trailed off, but at Draco's questioning look continued to explain to him the gruesome and horrific method of splitting one's soul in two.

"Well...let's hope nobody we know has done that...they'd have to be one sick bastard," Draco retorted, before pushing back his bedcovers and gingerly getting to his feet.

* * *

A/N: Your comments/thoughts are cherished and treasured. Thanks.

Huge thanks to me beta Rachael.


	31. Breakfast and Boggarts

**Ch 31: Breakfast and Boggarts**

 **Lavender**

"Oh my word, have you guys seen this?!'" Lavender exclaimed, spinning her copy of _Witch Weekly_ around so that it could viewed by her fellow Gryffindors. They were sat at the breakfast table on Tuesday of the first week of Spring Term. "Theodore Nott is 'Profile of the Month'!"

 _Witch Weekly_ ran a monthly article that featured a 'rising star' of the wizarding world; someone that was particularly gifted, or possessed an especially rare magical talent. Or that just happened to be attractive, wealthy and/or in the 'right' social circles at the time.

Lavender noticed Parvati freeze mid-chew and stare at the magazines glossy photograph, her eyes narrowing at the sight of Theodore Nott standing next to a dark wavy-haired, olive-skinned girl. Nott was turning to her and smiling as the girl seemed to be stroking her hand up his back, before the whole thing started all over again.

"I don't know why you read that, Lav. It's such Hippogriff shit," Neville commented.

"But this," Lavender's finger prodded down on Nott's nose. "This article tells us who's favoured at the moment - it's more than just trivial gossip. Yes, I know that's why I might have read it in the past, but now it can tell us who the next potential ministry puppet, or even Death Eater, is!"

"What does it say?" Parvati asked, still eyeing the photo with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity.

Lavender slid the magazine back to face her and started reading: "'Theodore Nott, son of Theodore Nott Senior and the late Briseis Nott, is currently a seventh year student at Hogwarts School and is really in his stride…blah, blah…he has really blossomed in the last year, with traditional good looks-'"

"Merlin, they love a cliché - is this Rita Skeeter?" Ginny interrupted with distaste.

"Yes," Lavender confirmed. "'Excelling in all subjects…blah, blah…heir to the Nott fortune, along with his brother, Ethan, who currently resides in Estonia -'"

"Who's the bint in the picture?" Parvati interrupted this time. Lavender was surprised by the biting scorn in Parvati's tone. Despite the tendency that she and her best friend had to gossip, it was unusual for Parvati to be derogative about other girls. She was usually the one to counter Lavender's bitchiness with understanding and reasoned empathy. It was one of the dynamics that meant their friendship worked so well - Parvati knew Lavender's flippant critiques of others were not borne out of cruelty, but out of insecurity. Which meant that, ultimately, Parvati always helped Lavender to stay kind.

"''Nott junior was seen getting cosy with Cressida Krall at the Malfoy's New Year's Eve party, one of the most anticipated events of the social calendar' - urgh, bet it was crawling with Death Eaters," Lavender read to answer Parvati's question. "'Miss Krall is a regular member of Nott's social circle when she visits the U.K. from her home in New York. Rumour has it the two snuck off together just as the New Year's fireworks were fading from the sky. Due to graduate from Ilvermorny School next year, Miss Krall looked stunning in a Morgana gown -' "

"Morgana?" Neville spat the word through a mouthful of toast.

"It's a fashion label," Parvati explained sourly.

"One of the best! And that's this season's - the one with Norwegian fairy dust meshed into the fabric? It's, like, seven thousand galleons or something!" Lavender looked up at the others' indifferent faces and closed the magazine, thinking she'd probably read enough. "This tells us that the Notts - probably Nott senior - is on the right side of You-Know-Who - is very close to him at the moment. Death Eaters fall in and out of favour - apparently he's fickle." Lavender said, trying again to convince the others of the usefulness of _Witch Weekly's_ gossip pages.

"Well that's nothing new, is it? Confirms what Pav found out last term, about Nott senior being Voldemort's favourite," Ginny retorted.

"Humph," Lavender responded and started to pick at her breakfast again, wondering what it would take for Ginny Weasley, and probably Neville too, to see her as anything other than an idle gossip.

Remembering Parvati's scornful tone moments earlier, Lavender slid her gaze up subtly to her friend, who was sitting opposite her. Parvati's eyes were fixed on a spot somewhere over Lavender's right shoulder. Lavender turned, trying to follow Parvati's line of sight, and her gaze settled on a group of Slytherins: Malfoy, Zabini and Nott. And it wasn't hard to guess who specifically Parvati was looking at because Theodore Nott's cold expression was fixed straight at them. Well, at Parvati. But then his eyes flitted to Lavender, and then darted away from the Gryffindor table completely, to some unknown spot of interest in his breakfast plate sat in front of him.

Lavender turned back to Parvati, who's head was now down, apparently absorbed in her food. This was

certainly not the first time Lavender had seen this kind of look pass between her best friend and the Slytherin. And when Nott had disconcertingly joined them at the Gryffindor breakfast table last term, Lavender had definitely noticed something…something _odd_ …pass between the two of them. For the rest of last term, she'd noticed Parvati's body unconsciously turn in Nott's direction when he'd enter a room and how her eyes always drifted to him more often than was natural whenever the two shared the same space.

Lavender had waited patiently for Parvati to share whatever her secret was, but she had remained surprisingly silent on the matter. She hoped that her friend wasn't in danger - under some controlling spell or being blackmailed or something - but it didn't seem like that. But then why was she keeping this from her? They told each other everything, didn't they? Maybe she should just come out and ask her…

"What I don't get," Neville's urgent but hushed tone interrupted Lavender's thoughts. "Is that Luna was taken on the last day of term but she didn't send a galleon message to us until New Year's _Day_. Which is nearly a two week gap…so why didn't she send it before?"

On New Year's Day afternoon, Luna had managed to send all of the D.A. a message via their coins, which simply read 'I'm okay'. When the DA had first reformed, Terry and Padma had re-charmed the DA galleons so that any coin which wasn't re-charmed was effectively rendered useless. It was a way of stopping people like Zacharias Smith knowing far too much. They could still only rearrange the numbers around the edge, but they had agreed that the numbers could also be a code for a short message, if you substituted the number for its corresponding letter in the alphabet.

Ginny shrugged in response to Neville's query, "Who knows? Maybe it wasn't safe for her to at first, or it was taken away from her but then she somehow managed to get it back…But, I mean, you'd think she could have been more specific! Typical Luna elusiveness - no hint of where the hell she actually _is._ "

"What would you have done if she'd said where she was?" Parvati asked softly.

"Rescued her of course!"

"Which is probably exactly why she didn't tell us," Parvati said. "I'm sure she thinks this is the best way…"

"Do you think her Dad will stop the Quibbler now?" Neville asked grimly.

"Of course he will," Ginny responded confidently. "It's his _daughter_. That's how they're getting to the adults…through their kids…through us….my mum knew that at the beginning of last year…it's why she so desperately wanted me to stay under the radar…"

Lavender was distracted from the groups discussion by the sight of Seamus walking down the aisle towards them. He and Michael Corner had gone to put their Quidditch gear in the sheds before breakfast. Lavender suddenly found herself becoming self-conscious and instinctively attempted to smooth her hair down where it tended to frizz, hoping Seamus would sit opposite her rather than next to her because her right side really wasn't a good angle for her nose. At least, that's what her mother always said. But Seamus plopped himself down next to her anyway, his face pale and expression fraught.

"What's wrong?" Lavender demanded. Had he got into trouble already? Last term, her feelings had constantly fluctuated from admiration of Seamus' defiance of the Carrows, to anxiety about his impending punishments.

Seamus shook his head as if in disbelief. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph! I swear those Dementors are going totally rogue. There was one just yards from the castle entrance when we headed back in just now! I tried to Patronus it away, but my casting's still fucked because - " Seamus raised his three-fingered hand in explanation - "Lucky Michael was there. His Patronus is awesome - it was like this _flock_ of birds. Not just one but a load of them - kingfishers apparently. Think the Dementors are getting bored...and overly-confident...and probably attracted to how miserable everyone is," Seamus finished grimly.

"Yeah, I heard there were two Dementors that kept circling the Astronomy Tower over Christmas," Ginny said dourly. "Probably just a matter of times before they get in the school."

"Here - I've got some chocolate." Lavender fumbled in her bag, relieved she could do something useful to relieve Seamus' distress. She held out the half-eaten bar with a tatty wrapper to him, slightly embarrassed by its condition.

"Thanks." Seamus' fingers brushed against hers as he took the chocolate, making her nerves prickle pleasantly. He beamed at her as he did so, his eyes that startling shade of blue flecked with green, and butterflies fluttered their wings deep in Lavender's stomach.

"Did you get your Quidditch stuff sorted?" Lavender couldn't care less about Quidditch gear, she just liked to hear Seamus talk - about anything , it didn't matter what - it was his accent - she loved his accent. It made his voice sound like he was singing and Lavender found it soothing; it rippled pleasantly through her veins, warming her when she sank into a hot bath.

"Yeah. All good. We bumped into Hagrid on our way down," Seamus said, leaning in to the group and lowering his voice. "He wants to organise a party. A 'Support Harry Potter' party."

"A what?" Neville asked, clearly dubious.

"A 'Support Harry Potter' party," Seamus repeated. "He says people need a morale boost."

"In Hogwarts? I mean…the sentiments cool, but a party isn't exactly subtle…wouldn't it be a little reckless?" Neville asked. Lavender loved a party possibly more than any of them, but she couldn't help thinking that Neville had a point.

"He says it could be deep within the Forbidden Forest - he knows a clearing that would be perfect for it. Said we could conjure a massive bonfire and heating charms so we'd stay warm, and that he can get a few barrels of Butterbeer from Hogsmeade...he seemed really into the idea so I kind of said we'd all go...felt bad otherwise..." Seamus trailed off.

"Well...it might be good to let off steam a bit..." Ginny said. "As long as we can ensure it stays hidden."

"When's he planning it for?" Parvati asked.

"This Friday evening. We all thought it best to do it as soon as possible - reduce build up and gossip time...and we thought we'd do a masquerade type thing? So let people know, yeah? Obviously just people we trust...and only the older kids - sixth and seventh years."

The others nodded in agreement.

"We better get to DADA - or Dark Arts," Neville said, rising from his seat. "Don't want to give Amycus an excuse for one of his punishment parties."

* * *

 **Parvati**

He'd just been smiling at her. Smiling, that was all. Smiling at the girl with the beautiful glossy hair and immaculately made up, symmetrical face. But he hardly ever smiled, especially like that, with that glint in his eyes that she'd only ever seen just before he was about to kiss her…so why had he looking at _her_ like that? That ridiculously pretty girl who'd definitely had a no-doubt-expensively-manicured hand on his back -

"Mr Nott?"

Parvati's attention was jolted out of her mental tirade and back into the Dark Arts classroom by Amycus' voice. For one, surreal moment, she thought Amycus had been practicing legilimency and guessed on the subject of her mental rant. But no, as she turned to where Amycus was pointing, she saw Theo, with his hand in the air.

"Professor, you said we'd be focusing on Boggarts this lesson. But we covered them in third year? They're O.W.L. level? " Theo somehow managed to sound respectful and disdainful at the same time.

Parvati found herself continuing to look at him after everyone else had turned back to the front of the classroom. It was almost involuntary, how her eyes were drawn to him, but there was something that repelled her as well. Because as she looked at his lips, her body remembered the touch them, and at his chest, her hands remembered the heat of him, and she felt an alarming, almost overwhelming urge to launch herself at him, to touch and taste him again.

Then Theo's eyes caught hers, and their gazes locked and it was like falling down a warm, tantalising rabbit hole, and she almost forgot where she was. It was only when Theo's eyes glided from her to Amycus at the front of the class, that she was able to wrench her own eyes back to the front of the room.

"Yes, yes, but our fears change as we grow, you see? And it is always important to practice and refresh our skills!" Amycus declared dismissively in response to Theo's query. "As you can see, there is a cabinet here with a Boggart residing in it and I would like you all to come forward in turn and attempt the Riddikulus charm."

The class rose reluctantly to their feet and shuffled into a line before the ominously rattling cupboard. Only a minority of the students had any enthusiasm for Dark Arts lessons these days. Mostly, the class was met with trepidation and viewed of as a kind of endurance test. Parvati was secretly relieved they didn't have to kill or main or stun any animals this lesson. Or their fellow students.

She had ended up in the line with Lavender in front of her and, she realised as her heart sped up, Theodore Nott behind her. She thought she could feel the heat of him on her back, radiating across the small space between them, but that was silly surely. No one could be that hot, could they, in a poorly heated castle, in Scotland, in January?

Neville was one of the first to approach the cupboard. At Amycus' wand flick, the doors flew open and a tall woman stormed out. Her face was framed with wild black hair and her mad eyes were focused on something that had appeared on the ground at her feet. Parvati looked down and saw a middle aged woman lying there, with a man that looked uncannily like an older version of Neville by her side. The wild-haired woman raised her wand at the couple and yelled out the Cruciatus Curse, causing the two figures to writhe on the floor and let out piercing screams of agony, which travelled right through to Parvati's bone marrow and ricocheted around her nerves.

"Riddikulus!" Neville managed to cry out after a moment's hesitation. The three figures abruptly disappeared and in their place sat an outlandish looking plant with leaves and flowers of various shapes and colours, its appearance so preposterous it was almost comical.

Well, it was clear that Neville's worst fear wasn't Snape anymore.

Parvati glanced over at Amycus who was standing behind his desk and scribbling something down on a piece of parchment, smirking all the while. As Neville walked past her, Parvati noticed his hands were shaking and his face pale. She caught his eye and gave him a reassuring smile.

Draco Malfoy was up next. This time, two coffins appeared on the floor and Albus Dumbledore, of all people, was stood between them. He looked at Malfoy and said sadly: "This is your fault boy, isn't it? Remember, it is our choices that define us, not our abilities...I knew a boy once who made all the wrong choices -"

"Riddikulus!" Draco cried out, interrupting the ex-headmaster's melancholic tones. The coffins disappeared and Dumbledore was suddenly on a jinxed broomstick, wobbling back and forth precariously, with a comically alarmed look on his normally calm face, before he and the broomstick vanished with a definitive popping sound.

Out the corner of her eye, Parvati saw Amycus writing hastily on his parchment again.

It was unsurprising that, for many of the students, their Boggart was Voldemort himself. Seamus was probably the eighth student for which this was the case. But his casting was clumsy and the Riddikulus charm wasn't working for him. Parvati was sure this was due to Seamus' damaged hand rather than his inability to master his fear. Either way, the pseudo-Voldemort started progressing into the classroom, his ghostly white face and slit-red eyes peering down at the group of students.

Parvati , like many others around her, found herself clumsily taking a step backwards, and she unwittingly pushed back into the warmth of Theo Nott's body. She instantly felt his hand rest on her left hip and linger there a moment too long, before hearing the words, "Steady, now…" whispered low and teasingly into her ear.

Warmth flooded Parvati's body at the feel of him and her lips instinctively parted as her breath caught in her throat. She desperately wanted to fall back further and press herself against him, to have him kiss the back of her neck, maybe she'd reach a hand behind her and feel him, hard and wanting -

But why was Lavender sitting, crouched down in the dark? Stepping forward, away from Theo, Parvati quickly realised that Seamus' Voldemort was gone, his turn was clearly over and Lavender was now at the front, facing her Boggart. But it wasn't the real Lavender that was crouched down, rather an image the Boggart had created. She appeared to be in a dark, empty room as a door opened and an austere, perfectly put-together woman that Parvati recognised as Lavender's mother appeared, staring down at her daughter in disgust.

"Nobody wants you Lavender," the woman said, her voice so cold it could freeze Fiendfyre. "You're nothing. Nobody. Such a disappointment, why would anyone - "

"Riddikulus!" Lavender cried and the image disappeared, replaced by a hopping white bunny rabbit with pink ears.

Parvati didn't have time to think about what her best friend's Boggart had meant because she had to step forward to take her turn next. As she braced herself in front of the cabinet, she wondered if her own Boggart would have changed like so many others had.

But as the bandaged figure burst out the cupboard, she realised it hadn't- it was still a blood stained mummy - and the fear flooded her like a tsunami - it would smother her, she would be suffocated by the rotten stench of it - even if she ran, it would always find her - but _no_ \- it was just a Boggart, Parvati reasoned, using all her strength and energy to quell her rising panic -

"Riddikulus!" she yelled, her wand inflection almost perfect. Because she never did that thing anymore, the giveaway that Theo had pointed out, where she looked down briefly at her wand before she cast a spell. She had trained herself out of that through the D.A. sessions last term. The mummy morphed into an array of large chocolate frogs which hopped energetically around front of the classroom, including on on Amycus' parchment, much to his obvious annoyance, before they too popped into nothing.

As she made her way to the back of the class, Parvati briefly felt a little disappointed in herself, that her mind was so unimaginative and unoriginal, it had kept the same 'worst fear' she'd had when she'd been thirteen.

She had to place herself behind the mass of students that had already taken their turn, so had stand on tip toes and crane her neck to see Theo step forward. Because she was curious - so curious - about what would come out of that cupboard.

As the doors, burst open, a tall, slightly stooped man in Death Eater robes and a mask walked out into the room. But just as he was about to pull his mask from his face, Parvati accidently lost her balance and toppled forward into Pansy Parkinson who happened to be standing in front of her. The Slytherin girl turned and gave her a scornful look.

"Don't fucking touch me, dunglicker!" Pansy hissed scathingly, before turning back to the front. But by that time, Theo must have successfully cast the Riddikulus charm because there was a large cauldron with legs and arms dancing about the front of the room as if drunk, before vanishing into wisps of white smoke that blew back into the cupboard.

As they left the Dark Arts class when the lesson was finally over, Parvati looked askance at Lavender, thinking of her friend's Boggart, of how the emotions that it had evoked had been ones of loneliness and rejection. Parvati slung her arm around her friend's shoulder and drew her into her side. As Parvati wondered what to say, or what to ask her, Lavender glanced at her and Parvati recognised the warning in her eyes.

"You know you'll always have me, right Lav? Best friends forever, right?" Parvati said, making an effort to keep her voice casual. She thought this comment was a fair compromise between not saying anything at all and forcing Lavender to admit that she was actually tortured by the insecurities her mother's internalised criticism had created.

"Yeah," Lavender said, smiling appreciatively and wrapping her own arm round Parvati's waist.

Neville fell into step beside them. "Well, that was a bit of a headfuck," he commented gloomily.

"Yeah…" Parvati wondered how to ask her next question. She knew it was probably best if she worked it naturally into the conversation somehow, but her curiosity won out over subtlety. "That Death Eater that was Theo Nott's Boggart, did you see his face?" she asked.

"Yeah," Neville looked uncertain.

"Did you recognise him? Do you know who he was?" Parvati insisted, ignoring a suspicious look from Lavender.

"Yeah…that was interesting…it was Nott Senior. It seems that the thing - person - Theodore Nott fears most in the world is his own father."

* * *

A/N: As ever, reviews/comments (no matter how long or short) are treasured and cherished.

Huge thanks to my beta Rachael.


	32. Wolf

**A/N:**

HUGE thanks to all that are reading this and have let me know by leaving favs, follows and/or reviews - you cannot underestimate how it makes my heart DANCE each time a get a review/comment for this fic.

This chapter jumps between Theo and Parvati's perspective fairly frequently, with little or no time break. Hence, I didn't want to disrupt the narrative by indicating a change of POV with the characters name as I normally do. Instead, I've put a 'X' where this happens, as I hope this is less intrusive. It should be clear whose perspective it is!

* * *

 **Ch 32: Wolf**

 _'"The truth. It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution"'_

\- Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

It was the first Friday night of Spring Term and the I.S. had been called out on duty at the last minute by the Carrows. They'd got wind of an illicit meeting happening in the grounds somewhere - Zacharias Smith had overheard some whisperings in the Hufflepuff Common Room - and so all sixth and seventh year I.S. members had had to rush to Amycus' office without delay to be briefed. The main instruction of which was to 'find the gathering', and they were given permission to go anywhere, including into the Forbidden Forest. The Carrows made their demands with an air of alarm and determination which meant that the I.S., Theo included, were shooed out on the 'blood traitor hunt' with the heavy implication that there was to be no delay.

So that was how Theo found himself wandering into the Forbidden Forest at sometime around eleven at night, when he heard the notes of a _Seven Sirens_ song. He halted, confused and disbelieving. Why on earth would there be _Seven Sirens_ music coming from the Forbidden Forest? Theo conjured all his wolf power to tune into the sounds, and the beast rose in him surprisingly willingly and easily. The notes of the song became clearer, the harmony sharpened and yes, it was definitely the _Seven Sirens_ and there was no doubt it was coming from deeper in the forest.

Theo followed the sound, walking further into the woods. The trees became denser and occasionally Theo heard the scurrying of an animal just off the path, or the rustle of one in a bush. These sounds didn't bother him. He'd always felt comfortable amongst the trees and the foliage, and for some reason, he felt even more relaxed tonight than he normally would. The smell of wet leaves and moss seemed to breathe through his body, soothing tense muscles and putting him unusually at ease.

After thirty minutes or so, he caught the scent of people - a large group of people, judging by the array of scents that hit him - and then a few minutes later, he saw light coming through the trees. He slowed his steps until he came to a stop, hiding himself behind the trunk of a large chestnut, to take in the scene before him.

In the centre of a clearing was a huge bonfire, with students sitting huddled in front of it toasting marshmallows and dancing in a small group not far from it. Scattered about the rest of the clearing, other groups stood with drinks in hand, chatting and exclaiming and every so often letting out a guffaw of laughter. Strung up across the clearing between two trees was a red, blue and yellow banner that read: 'Support Harry Potter', and off to the side sat Hagrid, leaning against a huge barrel of what Theo supposed was butterbeer. As he looked closer, Theo noticed that some of the students were in costume and some even had decorated masks covering their faces.

Anger bubbled and rose in Theo at the stupidity of these 'blood traitors'. Anger so strong that he had to fight with it to stop himself punching the tree trunk in front of him. Even for him, Theo knew this level of rage, and the swiftness with which it flooded him, was not quite normal. Apprehensively, he looked up at the dark sky.

The perfectly spherical white gleam of the full moon shone down into the forest, as if mocking him.

Shit.

He should have taken his last suppressant dose. But it was back at the castle, in a locked box under his bed. He'd meant to take it just before they'd been called up to the Carrows, and then it'd slipped his mind with the urgency in which they had all been shuffled out the castle to commence the 'blood traitor gathering' hunt. Now it made sense why he felt especially at home in the forest tonight.

Theo knew by now that the wolf monster within him had three main states: lustful, protective and white-hot anger if anything or anyone came between him and the subject of the first two. So he just needed to not have anything trigger his lust or protective instinct. That should be fine, that should be easy, he tried to convince himself.

But then he saw Parvati swirling haphazardly around by the fire, the skirts of her dress floating ethereally behind her. A dress that clung to her figure on all the right places. The firelight danced off her face as she lifted her arms above her head, smiling serenely and spinning around, her hair sailing through the air behind her. A surge of want rushed through Theo and he involuntarily let out a low growl.

Parvati staggered slightly, lurching precariously towards the fire and then laughed delightfully as she regained her balance. She was drunk, Theo concluded with alarm as his protective instinct went up. He instantly wanted to get her away from the fire lest she fucking fall into it, but also away from this bloody party which at any moment was going to be found by the Carrows or the I.S. members swarming the grounds.

Theo scanned the clearing, trying to think how to warn her - them - without giving himself away. But Parvati distracted him again as she danced and twirled into a group of people, her hips and body swaying magically. Theo could see at least three pairs of male eyes following her, leading his hands to curl into fists by his side and his heart to pound deafeningly in his ears.

He was on the verge of rushing in, lifting her up and taking her from the crowd when he saw her practically fall into someone - that Hufflepuff guy, the old prefect, Macmillan? - who reached out his arms to steady her. Then she was literally in a bloody _embrace_ with him, laughing up at his face, which was an inch or two from hers. Macmillan was smiling down at her in amusement and they both leaned in and Theo's heart nearly burst from his chest as they started to fucking _kiss_. As the kiss deepened, an uncontrollable, primal sound of frustration and pain escaped from him - a cross between a howl and cry of anguish.

A few students who were stood on the edge of the clearing nearest Theo halted their conversation and turned in his direction. "Did you hear that animal?" Theo heard one of them asked.

"It's okay, the fire and charms will keep them away," the other replied.

Theo had to fight the urge to march into the crowd, grab Macmillan, pull him off Parvati and rip at his throat with his teeth, tearing right at his jugular...and her...Theo's mind and body responded with what it would like to do to her to take back what was his...

The human, non-wolf part of Theo tried to fight for control, tried to overcome the toxic mixture of anger and lust that seemed to be taking over his rational thought. And so it was the human part that enabled him to Petrify Terry Boot who'd wandered out of the clearing - probably to take a slash - grab the mask from his face, put it on his own and march into the crowd. He knew it was a poor disguise and so had to be quick. Parvati had moved slightly away from Macmillan and started to dance on her own again. He grabbed her arm, summoning all his self control to be as gentle as possible, and steered her towards the trees. He heard her gasp, no doubt at his hard and uncompromising grip, but ignored it, whilst he whispered in her ear, "The party's fucking over, Patil."

 **X**

Parvati knew it was him almost straight away, despite the butterbeer-fuelled fog in her mind. She knew just by the touch of him, the shape of his jaw line, the waves in his hair.

"Theodore!" she exclaimed excitedly, because she was drunk and her mouth seemed to be moving quicker than her brain.

"Shhhh!" he hissed, and she giggled because for some reason that was funny - he was always so _earnest_. And then she remembered - Ernest, Ernie...his lips...tongue...oh, Merlin...she'd just been kissing Ernie Macmillan, hadn't she? Had Theo seen? How long had he been near?

But the thought drifted out of her mind because Theo had hold of her hand then - his hand felt rough and large in her smaller one and she loved the feel of it. He pulled her about four trees deep into the forest and pushed her against a trunk, discarding his mask. Merlin, she'd missed his face. His eyes were a funny colour, though...darker than normal...maybe it was the darkness of the forest...and there was something at the edge of her memory - something about _The_ _Prophet_ \- wasn't she meant to be angry with him about something? But the memory was gone just as she thought she might have had a grasp on it.

"I missed you," she slurred in a childlike tone because, well, she had. She reached out and placed a hand on his cheek. It felt surprisingly hot, _really_ hot, like he was burning. She wondered if he was ill.

Theo stilled at her touch, his eyelids fluttering shut and he moved his cheek up and down against her hand, as if _nuzzling_ against it. Then he turned his mouth abruptly toward her fingers and nipped at them, capturing her index finger between his teeth. She inhaled sharply, feeling the bite deep down inside her abdomen. It set her nerves pulsing rhythmically for him.

'Bite-ie,' Parvati observed between giggles.

He released her finger and opened his eyes, looking directly at her, so Parvati could see a glazed look in them...was he drunk too? Theo shook his head rapidly, as if trying to shake something off him and took a step back from her, studying her. His eyes were sharp and focused again.

"How drunk are you?" he demanded.

She grinned and leaned towards him. "Really quite drunk," she whispered conspiratorially. Again, her mouth was working faster than her brain. Parvati saw a glint of frustration - maybe even anxiety - in his eyes.

"Patil - the grounds are swarming with the I.S.," he explained urgently. "The Carrows are even out. It's not long before they find you guys. You lot need to break it up fast!"

"But we're too deep in the forest..." Parvati protested unconvincingly. And as if in response, they both heard shouting from about twenty metres away - the I.S. Theo was, as usual, right. It sobered Parvati somewhat, as realisation crept into her conscious of how drunk she was and the danger that she and her friends were in.

"Shit," she mumbled. "Okay. Right. I'm on it, don't worry." But her body had other plans: a surge of nausea rose in her, the world started to spin and she needed to reach out and hold on to Theo for balance.

Theo grasped her shoulders firmly. "You need to get your shit together, Patil," he urged.

"Okay, okay. No need to be so _cross_ all the time, Theodore," she slurred, wagging a finger at him. "I've got this," she repeated. She closed her eyes, concentrated hard and thought of Padma, but she was too drunk for that to work. So she started to move away from Theo, towards the clearing. "Thank you. For warning us."

"Patil," Theo grabbed her arm, momentarily stopping her. "You owe me for this. And I'm taking my debt tonight. Once you get everyone away - I'll see you in the place we met before - the shed."

It felt like Parvati had wanted nothing else since the last time - to be alone with him again - so she didn't hesitate when she said, "Okay. Deal."

Then she turned and ran in a staggered, drunken fashion back into the clearing. The first thing she did was stop the music, plunging the clearing into a surprised silence into which she shouted, "They're coming! They're _coming!"_

 **X**

Theo did a fifty metre loop through the trees so that when he joined Pansy and Daphne in a fake-hurried jog it looked like he had come from the entrance to the forest.

"I heard something over there!" he exclaimed urgently, pointing slightly to the left of where the party was, hoping he could maybe divert them for a little while.

But then a flash of green light rose up into the air about thirty metres from them, just above the site of the party. The forest was lit up in an eerie emerald glow, and Theo watched as the light in the sky morphed into the shape of a snake. It was the signal of the I.S. The party had been found.

"There!" Pansy yelled and started running towards the light. Daphne and Theo exchanged looks of resignation as they both started to run after Pansy, albeit less urgently.

They reached the clearing at the same time as the Carrows, the next moments were chaos: people ran in all directions, yelling and crying out, whilst flashes of white, red and even some green curses flew through the air. Theo's eyes searched for Parvati but he couldn't see her in the confusion. He desperately hoped that she'd gotten away okay. He cast an Aguamenti at the bonfire; the flames were doused in an instant and the clearing was plunged into the dim light of the moon.

"Well-fucking-done Nott! Now we can't see anything!" Theo heard Crabbe yell.

That's the whole point, dipshit, Theo thought but shouted instead: "Just trying piss on their party, so to speak!" as he cast a horrendously aimed stunning curse at Michael Corner. As he'd intended, the curse missed the Ravenclaw by about a metre.

Theo saw Amycus Carrow running after Hagrid shouting, "Don't bother coming back half-breed! If we catch you, you'd wish we hadn't!" Great fucking fight banter, Theo thought sarcastically.

It wasn't long before everyone had fled the clearing and the I.S. were running off into the forest in pursuit of various 'Potter supporters'. Theo ran too, hoping to lose most people so he could get to the old broom shed in peace. The closer he got to the shed, the more his protective instinct diminished and his fury increased as the memory of Parvati with Macmillan repeated in his mind, tormenting him

By the time he'd reached the shed, he'd given in to the wolf in him and he was _raging_.

 **X**

Parvati looked contemplatively down at some large cushions that had appeared in the shed since she'd last been there. Her foot nudged at an empty glass potion bottle, sending it rolling lazily across the floor, before coming to rest with a quiet clink against a small copper goblet. Strange, that these objects hadn't been here last term-

The door of the shed burst open and Parvati's head snapped up as Theo stormed in, casting hurried protective charms behind him, before rounding on her. She could immediately tell there was something different about him. She'd not seen the look on his face before, for one. It was bitter and angry and _wretched_.

She wanted to ask him if the others had gotten away safely, because she'd lost everyone in the chaos, but the intensity of Theo's expression made the words get stuck in her throat. Something about it reminded her of what he'd spoken in the potions cupboard all that time ago: _"I have a temper. Well, more than a temper. It's like...there's this fury that simmers and boils over in to just…white hot rage...I was beginning to control it but it's got worse again recently..."_

Theo took a few steps towards her than stopped abruptly.

"Are you working your way through the houses, Patil?" His voice was caustic. "Got bored of the Gryffindor boys, thought you'd try a snake and now you're moving on to the fucking _badgers_? I know this war is fucking with people's heads but I didn't think it was turning you into a _slut!"_ He spat out the last word and Parvati flinched at it, feeling a mixture of confusion and anger.

"Don't you _dare_ call me that," she said, her voice hard. She could barely remember kissing Ernie; it was impulsive and drunken and hadn't meant anything. But still. "I can kiss who I like."

"No, no, no. That's not how this works. Maybe I should have been clearer," Theo walked slowly towards her as he spoke. "I...don't... _share_."

He was right up against her now - she had backed away until she'd come up against the wall of the shed - and she could feel the heat radiating off him. Why was he so _hot_? She was about to retort about his hypocrisy - about the Cassandra girl, or Clarissa, or whatever her bloody name was - but his breath was on her cheek and her thoughts were scattering, and her muscles weakening, like she was melting under him. And despite his words, she desperately wanted to lift her head so their lips would meet and she could get lost in him again. She turned her head away from his, because she wasn't sure what would happen if she looked him in the eyes.

" What was it like? Kissing your fucking Hufflepuff?" he hissed in her ear.

" I..."

"It's not a rhetorical question.

"I- I can't think when you're this close to me."

"Then fucking _try_ because I'm not moving." _I don't want you to. I want you to stay this close to me forever,_ an uninhibited part of her mind responded. "What did you feel when you kissed him?" Theo insisted.

"Nothing. I felt nothing." She sensed something in Theo's posture relax and forced herself to look at him. She noticed the difference in his irises again: how much darker they were. Such a dark blue they were almost black.

"Theo - what's - what's wrong with you?" she asked plaintively.

He didn't answer but instead reached out a hand and gently brushed the hair away from her neck. A bolt of arousal shot down from where his fingers had lightly brushed her skin to deep in her stomach. She instinctively tilted her head, inviting him, and his tongue was licking and flicking on her neck and his mouth sucking gently, causing her to moan as he moved to her lips, kissing her deeply before pulling away.

"And when I kiss you - what's that like Patil?" he whispered.

She realised then what this whole thing was about: jealousy. And what he needed as a result: reassurance.

"It feels...it's...everything..." she murmured, because he'd made all her words scatter.

 **X**

Theo caught a waft of her scent again - jasmine, lavender and the sweetness of pumpkin juice - but this time it was mingled with butterbeer, maybe even some mead and firewhiskey - he could smell them coursing through her blood. She'd been mixing. Merlin, she was going to feel awful tomorrow, he thought. But the thought was fleeting because right then he caught the scent of something else on her - a male scent, fucking _Macmillan_ \- and suddenly rage swept through his system and before he could control it, he was spitting out, "You know you fucking _smell_ of him, don't you?"

He let out a low growl and lunged at her neck again, kissing and biting and sucking relentlessly, taking comfort from the sound of her gasps and moans. His instinct was to smother that bloody Hufflepuff's scent with his own and so he pressed himself onto her but it wasn't enough, he had an urge to _claim_ her - to flip her around and shove her hands on the wall, hitch up her dress, pull her hips towards him and take her from behind...then maybe throw her on the floor and keep going there - fuck her so hard into the wooden planks they would start to splinter -

\- But the human in Theo rose in him, fighting against the wolf, and he was filled with revulsion and shock at his own images. Because he wanted her, but not like that. He instinctively shoved her away from him, moving swiftly backwards to the other side of the room, trying to gain as much distance from her as possible. This was a mistake, he should have waited until he'd calmed down, had a chance to take his suppressant, and she'd had a chance to wash the scent of another fucking male off her.

"You better leave. I'm not a good person to be around right now," he said coldly, when he was as far away from her as possible.

He could see through the gloom that she was frowning in confusion at his sudden change in mood.

"What - what do you mean?"

Theo felt a wave of frustration - couldn't she just leave? She _needed_ to just leave. Why _he_ didn't leave, he wasn't sure. Probably because she was between him and the door and he'd have to walk close to her to exit, and he didn't trust himself to be so near her again.

"In case you hadn't noticed Patil, I'm feeling pretty angry right now. I'm doing all I can to keep in control but can't guarantee I'm not going to hurt you."

"I - I don't believe you'll hurt me." Her voice was tentative but there was an unmistakable undercurrent of conviction in it.

Theo scoffed, "Then you're fucking stupid after all."

She was moving towards him, her scent getting stronger again with every step.

"Don't come any closer," Theo hissed, enunciating every word.

"Why? What are you scared of, Theo?"

Her advance was relentless and she only stopped when she was a few inches from him. His breathing and heart had quickened, his reflexes twitched. The effort of trying to control himself was causing him to shake

"What are you scared you'll do?" Parvati persisted gently.

He let out an impatient sound of derision again. "You really don't want me to answer that," he spat out. But he could see her calm expression as she waited patiently for his response - why wasn't she more scared of him? - bloody Gryffindors - and despite himself, he found himself answering her.

"Ripping that dress off of you," he tried to stop the words spilling from his tongue but it was like fucking veritaserum all over again. "Pinning you against the wall. Fucking you. Making you mine. I want to know how you'll feel around my cock. Hear the noises you'd make. Kissing you, biting you, fucking you - everywhere - licking your clit - how you'd respond if I put my tongue inside you..."

As he spoke, Theo heard Parvati's breathing become stilted, smelled the changes inside and outside her body: the renewed release of endorphins and oxytocin rushing through her and, to his surprise, her arousal. Rather than being repulsed and scared by his words, she was really quite turned on. The thought relaxed him somewhat but in allowing himself to relax, he let the wolf creep up on him again - lust and a need to dominate took control of his thoughts.

"How does that made you feel, Patil?" he asked aggressively. He already knew the answer but wanted to hear her say it. Parvati's lips had parted and her cheeks were flushed. "You're getting really wet aren't you, thinking of me fucking you?" She nodded, closing her eyes. "Answer me."

"Yes," she said as she exhaled a long, warm breath.

Then the scent of Macmillan hit Theo again, making the wolf clench his teeth and anger sweep through him again, and he spat out the next words before he could stop them, "You greedy little _slut_."

Her eyes snapped open and she glared at him as he smelt something new coursing through her system - cortisol, the stress hormone.

"Theo, you need to calm the fuck _down_." Parvati's voice took him by surprise. It was firm, hard and controlled and there was a _dominance_ to her. "And you need to stop calling me that."

And an unusual thing happened: it was like the wolf had recognised another alpha and was somehow cowed by it. Theo felt it within him, felt it yield and submit to her.

It was likely, after all, that a wolf would succumb to a lion.

Then, more gently, searchingly, Parvati asked, "This isn't you Theo. What's wrong with you? What's _in_ you?"

"I'm sorry," he said, and because the human in him was back in control, he felt truly horrified at himself for what he'd just said. "I'm so sorry - I didn't mean to say that - to call you that."

He needed her forgiveness. He needed it or he might break.

"I - I have this illness - it makes me say things I don't mean." He looked at her then and she was looking back at him with a mixture of puzzlement and something he didn't want to acknowledge was pity.

She held out a hand and took one of his gently in hers.

"It's okay. Come. Lie down with me," she said firmly.

He found himself letting out a noise that was a half purr-half growl and looked down submissively as she led him to the large cushions. He wondered fleetingly where they had come from because they hadn't been there before Christmas.

As they lowered themselves down on them, Parvati leant over him, pushing her lips onto his in a passionate kiss. He let out an involuntary moan and, at the parting of his lips, her tongue darted in between them, and he started to massage his tongue desperately against hers. He felt her hand stroking down his chest and heard her mumble something about how he was "too hot" and as they kissed again, deep and slow, her hand swept lightly over the bulge in his jeans - ever so gently and teasingly. She moved her hand away again, causing him to growl quietly in protest, before she burrowed it underneath his shirt and stroked up his body, the cool feel of her fingers a relief to his almost-burning heat.

Somehow, with her wand in her other hand, she'd managed to unbutton his shirt and attempted to pull it off him. He resisted this by not moving to accommodate her undressing of him, meeting her questioning look with one of wariness. He knew why she wanted this - at least partly why - she wanted to see his left forearm, so see if the skin there was untouched or whether it was marked by darkness. And he could not allow her this knowledge - because if she still believed he may have taken the Dark Mark, she'd remain wary of him, which would keep her safe.

Seeming to give in, she compromised by pushing his shirt aside to expose his chest, leant down and started trailing a succession of kisses and nips and licks down his torso, each one causing his breathing to become more stilted and his cock to harden. She placed a hand over his erection again, which was now straining against his trousers, and he let out a strangled kind of groan.

"I love feeling how much you want me," she whispered in his ear as she started to unbutton his belt and jeans. He instinctively reached out a hand, placing it over hers, stilling her, but this time for a different reason. Because in letting her continue, he would be letting go of his control again, albeit in a very different way from earlier in the evening. She looked at him again, her brown eyes penetrating and knowing and as if reading his thoughts, she said gently, "Let me. You need this."

And so he relented, which was more of a relief than anything, shifting his body to help her pull down his jeans and boxers, his cock springing up hard and wanting, pre-come glistening at the tip of it. He watched her as she looked down at it, her tongue darting out to lick her lips and her eyes hungry. Her hand softly swirled around the tip of it, gathering the moisture there before sliding down the length of him, causing him to let out a low, primal groan. She started massaging his cock in gentle, rhythmic movements, whilst peppering his chest with kisses again, before moving back to meet his lips with hers. He responded by devouring her mouth hungrily.

He arched his hips up, indicating he needed more and she obliged by increasing the pressure and speed of her hand in response. Fuck, she was good at this, he thought and then hastily pushed away thoughts of how much and with whom she might have practiced. He closed his eyes, his breathing becoming ever more uneven as he allowed himself to get lost in the feel of her.

Then he felt her shift, felt her hair brush over his torso as she lowered her head down, the feathery feel of it setting off sparks through his skin. He let out an involuntary growl of surprise as he felt her tongue swirl around the tip of his cock, and then flick in fast rhythmic movements over the skin between the head and the shaft, before lathing down the whole length of him and then pushing her lips to it gently, as if she was kissing it. The feel of her soft lips against it made him ache with want for her and he emitted a frustrated kind of grunt. He heard her let out a quiet chuckle, felt her breath hot against him. The part of his brain that could still think and not just feel was aware she was teasing him - probably some kind of reprisal for the way he had tormented her body that time before Christmas.

Then he felt her lips wrap around the tip of his cock, just ever so gently press there and then go again before he could really process the feeling, her tongue stroking down again to where her hand still pumped around the base of his cock. He tried to stop himself moaning out her name, with the result that only half of it was verbalised: "'Til, 'til..." and was followed by a stifled groan, "...iee."

"'Til?" she repeated playfully, and he felt her breath tickle him. "Tillie? Is that a new nickname for me?"

He couldn't answer, only grunt again, and then, thank fucking Merlin, her lips were wrapped around the tip of his cock again and this time she moved them down, taking all of him in her mouth, and he was again surprised and disconcerted and thrilled, all at once, at how skilfully she managed it. She sucked hard as she raised her head slowly and his whole body tensed. "Fuck..." he mumbled darkly as her mouth started to move repeatedly up and down, finding a delicious, ecstatic rhythm.

He was vaguely aware of his moans getting louder, of him gasping out her name again and his hands curling into fists by his sides. He felt the need to do something with them - to touch her - so he gripped them in her hair, trying to be gentle, then pushed her hair back from her face so her could look down at her and see his cock encased by her lips. It was that sight which sent him to the edge; he felt the build up of his orgasm and she could clearly sense it too because she moved her head away just before he came, uninhibited and hard, his come spurting over the cushions and himself.

Parvati waved her wand, which she'd clearly just retrieved from her side, cleaning up his mess, and then moved it to her mouth. But he didn't want her to think that he cared about that, so he gently grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her up towards him, and her lips to his own again. The kiss was warm and deep, a tangle of tongues and both their tastes.

After some time, Parvati rested her head on his chest. Theo thought about how he wanted to pleasure her body like she just had his, but knew that their time was running out. They both needed to head back to the castle - she, certainly, would be missed. And he resented this - that this time with her, which should have felt content and beautiful, was to be wrenched from them, like so many other things.

He thought back to the events of the evening, to how her words and her voice had managed to suppress the monster in him. And possibly because his mind was still hazy, he caressed her jaw, lifting her head, prompting her to flutter her eyes open at him.

"You - you tamed it," he said, his voice disbelieving and awed. He didn't give her a chance to ask him what that meant because a mixture of the adrenaline crash he was experiencing from the retreat of the wolf, and the powerful orgasm he'd just experienced, meant that his head lolled back onto the cushions and sleep rolled over him.

* * *

A/N: As ever, comments/kudos are cherished and treasured.

Huge love to my beta Rachael


	33. Revenge

**A/N:**

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter depicts a sexual assault (not rape) from the survivors/victims point of view. if you don't want to read it but want to continue to follow this fic, then feel free to PM me and I'm happy to summarise what happens.

* * *

 **Ch. 33 Revenge**

 _'"We cannot protect the young from harm. Pain must and will come."'_

― Dumbledore to Harry, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child.

 **Lavender**

It was turning out to be one of the best nights of Lavender's life.

Finally, something seemed to be happening between her and Seamus. She had engineered it so that she was sitting next to him by the bonfire when the marshmallows were given out. Michael and Terry had been there too for a while, and the four had exchanged tipsy banter before the two Ravenclaws had disappeared into the shadows at the edge of the clearing. But Seamus had remained by her side, and they had continued to chat about nothing very much, and she was sure - or at least she suspected - that he may have been flirting with her...wasn't he? She would have asked Parvati what she thought but her best friend was really rather smashed by this point, and was twirling away across the clearing towards Ernie and a bunch of Hufflepuffs.

"It seems to have worked out okay, doesn't it?" Seamus said looking around at the drinking, chatting and dancing students. "I wasn't sure about it when Hagrid first suggested it but it looks like everyone's having a good time. And we need that."

The 'Support Harry Potter' party had, indeed, been going well so far. At least it had for Lavender. Mainly because she'd spent most of it with Seamus, and was now sitting really rather close to him, with a blanket across both their laps.

"It's great," Lavender agreed, rotating her skewer so her marshmallow would get toasted evenly.

"You know, I never normally eat these," Seamus said, as he shoved his own sweet into his mouth. "Only 'eally like 'em when you can 'oast 'em like this." Seamus spoke through a mouthful of marshmallow, beaming triumphantly at her when he finally swallowed.

Lavender giggled as she noticed a pink blob on the edge of his lips - some remains of his marshmallow. She reached out instinctively, the firewhiskey she'd been drinking clearly doing away with her normal inhibitions, and scooped the pink splodge up with her finger, explaining "You've got some -"

But her words faltered because Seamus' grin had faded, his eyes had darkened slightly and he'd caught hold of her hand just as she'd started to draw it back to herself. Locking eyes with her, he drew her finger to his mouth, and neatly licked the marshmallow remains off of it. At the feel of his tongue and his lips, Lavender's breath caught in her throat and a bolt of something unfamiliar but so-very-pleasant seemed to shoot from her finger down to her core.

"Oh," Lavender gasped out, wishing she could be more articulate. But it didn't seem to matter because then Seamus was leaning towards her, his eyes on her mouth, and his lips were on hers.

Lavender used to worry about being a 'good kisser', but just then with Seamus, everything seemed to come naturally. She pressed her lips back onto his, as his thumb stroked along her jawline and his hand curled round to rest on the nape of her neck. Their tongues tentatively reached into each other's mouths, and the pace was just perfect, and Lavender moved her left leg so she could lean her whole body further towards him. Her hand came out to balance herself and landed somewhere at the top of his left thigh, under the blanket but over his jeans. She felt him exhale quickly into her mouth, letting out a strangled little moan at the same time. In response, she withdrew her lips from his, feeling slightly awkward - was this right? was this okay? - and met his gaze.

His cheeks were flushed, but she didn't think it was just from the fire, and his eyes darted hungrily around her face. She wondered if she should say something, but then Seamus murmured so quietly she wasn't sure if she heard it correctly, "I've been wanting to do that for ages."

Lavender's mind whirled - he had wanted to kiss her - _her_ \- it wasn't just the beer he'd drunk and the fact she happened to be a girl sat next to him - he'd wanted to kiss _her_. And she'd never tried to pretend she was anything she wasn't with Seamus - which meant that maybe he liked her for who she was - liked her like _that_ \- like how she liked him.

Then he was grinning impishly at her, emitting a short chuckle, and Lavender couldn't help but return the smile. She wondered if he felt awkward for what he'd just said, and she realised she wasn't being particularly reassuring, having not replied. But before she could think what to say, he reached out and cupped her head in his hands, drawing her to him and kissing her more urgently and deeply this time.

Lavender wasn't sure how long the kiss went on for, she just knew she didn't want it to end. Her whole body was responding to him - she hadn't known it was possible to get so aroused by just _kissing_ a boy. She hadn't felt like this with Ron, or any of the other boys she had kissed. Her muscles had all seemed to tighten and loosen at the same time, liquid heat had pooled between her legs and her knickers felt like they were well and truly ruined.

Then, suddenly, the music was cut off and the whole clearing was plunged into a surprised silence. Lavender and Seamus pulled back from each other in alarm, looking around. Parvati was stood, swaying slightly in the middle of the clearing, her wand held out in front of her.

"They're coming!" she yelled out. "They're _coming_!"

For several moments, people argued confusedly as Parvati tried to explain that the Carrows and the I.S. knew about the party and were searching through the trees "only meters away!", and others maintained that they'd done well at keeping the party a secret and there was "no way the Carrows would come into the forest."

But then, Goyle and Smith burst into the clearing. Several wands and well-aimed curses were turned in their direction. Before Goyle fell to the ground, a victim of Neville's stunning spell, he managed to emit a bright green light into the sky, which swirled into the shape of a snake. Not long afterwards, the Carrows and more I.S. members ran into the clearing, and chaos ensued.

Seamus pulled Lavender to her feet and they started running into the trees. But in having to dodge various hexes, Seamus pulled his hand from Lavender's and they were suddenly separated. Hearing the sounds of yells and footsteps close behind her, Lavender kept running in the direction she thought - hoped - was the castle. Flashes of white and red light skimmed by her, missing her by millimeters. She aimed her wand over her shoulder, casting a succession of offensive curses. She had no idea if they hit their target because she had to keep her gaze straight ahead of her, needing to watch her footing amongst the numerous brambles and tree roots.

After several minutes, Lavender realised that she could no longer hear the urgent yells or the hurried footsteps behind her. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart and her own breath coming in quick, short gasps. But still, she ran. She ran until her chest hurt and it felt like her lungs were collapsing inwards from lack of air.

Then she had to slow down, or else she would fall down, in order to stop the burning of her lungs. She slowed to a half jog-half walk and realised anxiously that she had no idea where she was. She paused to catch her breath further and looked up at the sky, at the perfect silver sphere of the moon, and wished she'd paid more attention in Astronomy. For the stars may be able to guide her back. She examined one little twinkle of light - was that the north star? Or was it that one - off to the right of it? she wondered desperately.

"Expelliarmis!"

To her horror, Lavender's wand wrenched itself out of her hand and sailed away over her right shoulder. She spun around in the direction that the disarming spell had come from and made out two figures walking towards her through the trees.

"Not nice, is it Brown, being disarmed?" a cold voice said through the darkness and Lavender's stomach twisted as she recognised it. Flint. His words from the day he'd Crucio'ed Seamus came back to her: _"When someone disarms me, I make sure they know never to try it again."_

The two figures walked into the light of the moon and Lavender saw that Flint was accompanied by Vincent Crabbe. She started walking backwards as the two advanced, thinking desperately of what to do - how the hell she could get out of this situation without magic - but her mind failed her and she did the only thing she could think of: she turned and bolted.

She didn't get far before a non-verbal curse sent her flying through the air and hitting the ground with a hard thump. Before she could catch her breath, her body was launched into the air again and her back was smacked hard against the trunk of a tree. Her spine stung painfully from the impact.

"Incarcerous!" Flint cried out and ropes appeared around the tree at Lavender's ankles, her waist and her wrists, stretching taut around her and trapping her to the tree. Lavender squirmed against the binds as Flint and Crabbe strode towards her but they held her tightly in place. She fought to quell her rising panic. Keep your head, keep your head, keep calm Lavender, she chanted to herself.

"Were you having fun at that illegal party, Brown?" Flint asked tauntingly once the two boys had reached her. Flint leaned towards her and Lavender had an irrational compulsion to spit in his face, but held back because she knew that would do nothing but anger him. "Naughty girl…" Flint's eyes wandered predatorily up and down her body. "Let's see just how naughty you can be…"

As the possible meaning of Flint's words hit her, Lavender's stomach churned and bile rose in her throat. She had to fight the urge to vomit and instinctively twisted against the ropes again.

"Quite a wriggler, isn't she?" Crabbe commented dispassionately. "Why don't you immobilise her?"

"Cos that would paralyse her and I want her to _feel_ this…I'm sure she does too, don't you Brown?" Flint leered as his eyes glided up and down her body again. "Don't tell us the Gryffindors are the only boys you'd spread these legs for?" Flint gave his wand a flick which caused her legs to move away from each other within their binds and her coat to fly open. She was wearing a woollen dress with stockings and her mind could not quite compute what was happening as Flint's hand went under her dress and she felt his icy fingers fumbling with her knickers. Her whole body went tense as she heard someone scream - a loud, shrill scream - as she felt his cold fingers there, in the spot where no-one had ever touched except herself - no-one, not even Ron -

And it was the strangest thing. She was suddenly looking at herself from above, as if watching herself on a Muggle TV screen. And she realised the person screaming was her.

"How does she feel?" Crabbe asked, but it was like she heard him through thick glass.

Cold fingers invaded her, shoved themselves inside her.

"Oh Salazer, you know what Crabbe?" Flint replied through a grin. "This little lioness is wet for me."

And the Lavender tied to the tree, despite herself, let out whimper, because she realised that what Flint had said was partly true. Because she _was_ still a little wet from when she had been kissing Seamus. But oh fuck - oh Merlin - _no_ \- Flint thought it was because of him, that she was somehow enjoying this, or complicit in it or-

"Impedimenta!" Flint's hand was suddenly yanked from her and his body flew through the air, landing with a loud thud several meters away.

"Stupify!" A flash of red light hit Crabbe in the head and he was also launched into the air, albeit less ferociously, and landed near Flint, unconscious.

Lavender looked in the direction of the curses and saw Ginny, Padma and Hannah hurrying towards her, their wands outstretched and a wave of relief flooded her body.

"Diffindo!" Hannah exclaimed as she reached Lavender, pointing her wand at the ropes and moving it in a succession of abrupt flicks, cutting and loosening her binds so that Lavender was finally free from the trunk.

"My wand," she managed to splutter out.

"Accio Lavender's wand," Padma incanted and the thin piece of wood rose in the air from somewhere near Flint's hand and sailed neatly into Padma's hand, who immediately passed it to Lavender. As her hand grasped around it once more, she felt like weeping in relief. Instead, her stomach contents seemed to rise abruptly to her throat, her body convulsed in a violent heave and she vomited all over the roots of the tree.

"Oh, Lavender!" Hannah cried sympathetically, reaching out to put an arm around her, as Lavender scourgified her mouth. "Are you okay? Oh my gosh - we heard you screaming and…" All three girls now surrounded her and started to fuss.

But meanwhile, Flint had stirred and had managed to get to his feet, rubbing his head, clearly dazed.

"No!" Ginny cried when she noticed him and flourished her wand in an apparent non-verbal spell. Flapping masses of brown-green slime emerged from Flint's nose. Some fused with his face, while others stuck to his arms and chest. He attempted to turn and run but, blinded by the bat-bogey now blocking his vision, he tripped over Crabbe who was still lying on the ground and fell head first into the earth. His body was still. It seemed he'd knocked himself out.

The masses of slime carried on emanating from Flint's nose and continued to cover him, and then semi-flew and semi-slid to Crabbe, attaching themselves over every inch of his body too.

After a few moments, the two appeared nothing more than a mass of brown-green gunk.

The four girls moved tentatively to the slimy mess, encircling it, their wands pointed down. Lavender noticed her hand was shaking; that _all_ of her body was shaking.

"I see what they mean about you doing the best Bat-Bogey Hex, Ginny," Hannah said solemnly, looking with disgust as a glob of slime slid off Crabbe's face and came to rest on the ground beside him. There was a pause as the four girls studied the gunk-covered boys.

"Thank you," Lavender said, her voice wobbly.

Ginny's eyes flicked up at her. Her expression was grave and her brow furrowed but she gave Lavender a small, reassuring smile before returning her gaze downwards.

"What shall we do with them?" Padma asked grimly.

Ginny idly kicked at Crabbe's leg. "They shouldn't be able to get away with that. They should never, _ever_ be able to do anything like that again," she spat out bitterly. The first female born to the Weasley family in generations was clearly furious, and Lavender realised the girls had seen enough to know what Flint had been doing to her as they'd found her.

"But they will," Hannah said bleakly. "At least, with how things are at the moment, they will. If anything, it's us that won't get away with what we've done to them. Once they wake up and remember it."

"I can try and make it so they can't remember," Padma said quietly, and then at the others questioning look, "I - I've been practicing Obliviate. It's a very advanced, complicated spell so I'm not sure if I'll do it right - but I can try - try to make them forget what just happened?"

"Okay. I think it's the best plan," Ginny said after a moment, to Lavender's and Hannah's nods of agreement. "Do your worst Padma."

And so Padma leant over the two boys in turn, murmuring an incantation as swirls of white emitted from their heads and seemed to travel into Padma's wand tip. After several minutes, she stood up and backed away.

"I definitely got the last few minutes, since the time we got here." Padma said, then turned and looked guiltily at Lavender. "But I'm not sure if I managed to get the bit before that."

Lavender shrugged. "It's okay, Pad. Thanks for trying. At least they won't have an excuse to punish you guys, or seek revenge. Nobody wants a vengeful Flint after them." She brushed at her cheeks, which she realised were damp with tears. She hadn't even noticed she'd been crying.

"Come on, let's head back. We'll leave them here. They'll wake up soon enough," Ginny said quietly, and the four girls turned and started to walk through the trees, Hannah and Ginny putting supportive arms around Lavender, who couldn't hide how weak and shaky her legs were.

"Glad someone paid attention in Astronomy," Ginny said dryly, as Padma led the girls in the direction of the castle.

It had, by far, been the worst evening of Lavender's life.

* * *

 **Theo**

There was something odd going on with the girls. With the 'blood traitor' girls. Theo saw it unfolding at breakfast the morning after the forest party.

The first thing he noticed was that Parvati wasn't at the Gryffindor table, which made him instantly on edge. He tried to rationalise that she was probably too hung-over. But her friend wasn't there either - Brown. Theo thought that maybe she was too hung-over too, that they were probably both comforting each other up in their Gryffindor dorm, nursing sore heads.

But then Weasley came hurrying down the aisle between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, stopped where Longbottom and Finnigan were sitting and started grabbing toast, croissants and other food off various plates and wrapping it in a napkin. There was something distracted and urgent about her manner and Theo noticed how she dismissed the queries she was getting from the Gryffindor boys.

Then Padma Patil came up to Weasley and Theo watched as the two girls exchanged fervent, hurried whispers before making their way around to the Hufflepuff table, which also meant walking alongside the Slytherin table, closer and closer to Theo. They stopped by Hannah Abbott and Theo concentrated hard on channelling his auditory powers to catch what they were saying.

"How is she?" Abbott asked, rising to her feet to talk to the girls.

Out of the corner of his eye, Theo saw Weasley shrug. "She's not said much. Cried a bit. But, like, little silent tears. Had about four showers."

Silent crying? Were they talking about Parvati? For an awful moment, Theo thought that what he had always feared had transpired: the dark in him had spilled out and contaminated her. Maybe, despite how it had ended last night, it had all been too much, too messy.

'Par's with her now," Weasley continued.

So not Parvati then, Theo thought with a rush of relief, before a swell of new concern rose up in him: they must be talking about her friend, Brown.

"Parvati got back okay, then? She wasn't there when we came back last night?" Abbott asked.

"Yeah. She got lost in the forest for about an hour but she's fine," Patil answered. "I'm going up to see how Lav is now."

"I'll come up with you," Abbott said, and the three started walking towards the halls doors, away from Theo.

"She said she doesn't want anyone else to know - especially the boys," Theo heard Weasley say.

"She's got nothing to be ashamed off -" Patil replied indignantly.

"I know. Believe me, I know that. But I don't know if she does..."

And their voices faded out of reach.

Theo may have been a seventeen year old boy but he wasn't stupid and he wasn't naive. He had ideas of what could make a girl silent, tearful, feel unclean enough to have repeated showers and shamed enough to want the reason to be kept a secret.

He looked at his housemates, with a twisted feeling in his gut, thinking about who the culprit - or culprits - could be. Assuming it was a Slytherin at all.

"Hey Flint," Theo began casually, "How did you guys get on last night, clearing up that party?"

* * *

A/N: Favs/follows/reviews are, as ever, loved.

Huge thanks to my beta Rachael.


	34. Riddles

**A/N:**

'Terror-turn' is my headcanon phrase for what the wizarding world call a 'panic attack' (I thought 'panic attack' sounded too...clinical/medical and Muggle so wanted a different word/phrase). I couldn't find a way of naturally putting this in the narrative, so just thought I'd note it here.

Warning: mild, possible reference to blood play/blood fetish.

* * *

 **Ch. 34 Riddles**

 _""You will also find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."'_

― Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

 **Lavender**

Lavender waited.

She waited for her breath to slow each time she saw that no new graffiti had appeared in the girls toilets - no new, explicit phrases in relation to her at least. She waited for her heart rate to return to normal each time Pansy Parkinson or Daphne Greengrass walked past her and they hadn't spat insults - _slut...whore_ \- in her ear. Because Lavender knew that, sadly, girls could sometimes be the worst at victim blaming. She waited for the whispers and knowing smirks from the I.S. boys or for a note to be slipped onto her desk with crude words and obscene suggestions...

She waited for it all - for Flint, in his fucked up, sick way, to boast about what he had done, to twist it into something that it wasn't at all, and for the rumours to wash over Hogwarts School.

But none of it came. Two, three, four days after the forest party and none of what she feared would happen had transpired and she knew from spreading rumours herself that two days was ample time for the whispers to have thoroughly travelled around all four houses. So she started to allow herself to believe, with relief, that Padma's obliviating had fully worked. That it had wiped Flint and Crabbe's mind of the whole event - since they'd found her in the forest - and not just since the girls had got there.

A new rumour did circulate though. That they'd been some kind of ruckus in the Slytherin common room. That Theodore Nott had flown into a kind of rage, had grabbed the plaque of Salazar's coat of arms from where it hung above the fireplace and launched it at Flint's head. That other Slytherins had had to hold him off, to drag him away to his dorm.

Interesting, Lavender thought, dissent in the Slytherin ranks. _Things fall apart, the centre cannot hold..._

The rumour was partly confirmed by the deep gash to Flint's forehead, where apparently the shield had just skimmed his head. Shame it hadn't decapitated him, Lavender had thought coldly when she'd heard this.

It had been hard, really hard at first, for Lavender to go to the classes she shared with Flint. She had needed to know where he was in relation to her - her eyes had furtively searched the room when she entered to clock him - but at the same time she hadn't wanted to look at him, to acknowledge him at all. She'd then sat stiffly in her seat, for once concentrating hard on the lesson as Parvati, who was always sat next to her, subtly reached under the desk and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Lavender sensed Parvati's frequent glances at her. She was probably anxious that Lavender might succumb to a terror-turn like she had that morning - the morning after the party - and several times since.

Mostly, Lavender just squeezed Parvati's hand back and kept her gaze fixed to the front of the classroom, as her feelings fluctuated between fear and anger. Anger that she had to sit there, in the same room as the man that had assaulted her, as he carried on with his life as if nothing had happened, whilst she tried to fix the fragments of hers that had broken that night in the forest.

* * *

Busy. Busy, busy, busy. That's what Lavender was. She made sure of it. Anything to push away the shadows that skirted around the edges of her mind, threatening to come into the light, to engulf her with the smell of tree bark, with the sound of foul words hissed in her ear, the glint of moonlight reflecting off predatory eyes, with the feel of cold, cold fingers -

She pushed these shadows away, keeping them squeezed into the corners of her mind, dismissing anything and anyone that tried to make her think about them. She brushed off Parvati's suggestion that "Maybe she should talk about it?" and her gentle coaxing - "Can you at least tell me what actually happened, Lav?" - and scorned Padma and Hannah's idea of telling McGonagall or another teacher: "What on earth can they do about it? I.S. members like Flint have impunity, you said so yourselves!" she had retorted.

The students knew that the teachers' ability to prevent the worst of the Carrows' regime was limited. They knew that if McGonagall, Flitwick or Sprout stuck their necks out too much they would be banished from the school like Hagrid, only to be replaced by someone much worse, possibly another Death Eater in the guise of a teacher. And then they wouldn't be able to do the small things they _were_ managing to do to protect the students. Because Lavender and her friends had all noticed these subtle efforts.

They'd noticed how Trelawney had let students sleep through her lessons, lulled into a relaxed slumber by the heady perfume of her room. Students who no doubt had suffered from dark nightmares the night before, or else had been kept awake by the screams of those that had.

They'd noticed how Sprout had deliberately covered healing plants in painstaking detail and had made it a project for all students to grow a sana plant of their own. When the leaves of the sana plant were pressed, the resulting juices had healing properties. It wasn't dittany, but it was better than nothing. They'd noticed how Flitwick had exhausted the teaching of the protective charms section on their curriculum but had carried on besides, delving into ever more obscure shield charms, whilst at the same time being careful not to stray into the DADA curriculum.

They'd noticed how McGonagall instructed them to transfigure nearly every object into something that could be used as a weapon. Even during the first years' initial lessons, with the traditional task of transfiguring a matchstick, the students had been asked to turn it into a steel dart - small but lethally sharp.

The problem, Lavender couldn't help thinking, was that the I.S. were learning all this too...

And even so, Lavender knew that the teachers could do very little about Flint. She knew that if the Carrows heard about it, they'd perversely probably _approve_ , probably _award_ him in some way. So instead, she kept busy. Keeping busy helped keep the shadows at bay. That was why, a week or so after the forest party, she agreed to help Professor Trelawney with some task during lunchtime and had roped in Ginny and Neville to help too. The two had been mooching around the school, still confined to the castle walls, when Lavender suggested they come with her.

When they arrived at Trelawney's room, they found her with her wand arm outstretched and the bright white light of a Patronus charm just fading from the tip of her wand.

"Oh my - oh dear!" the teacher exclaimed as she lowered her wand. "A Dementor - a Dementor, of all things, just outside my window!"

"They'll be in the castle any day now," Neville surmised grimly.

Once she'd collected herself, Trelawney explained their task: moving boxes of crystal balls to a cupboard on the stretch of landing overlooking the main entrance hall to the castle.

"Why are you moving them there, professor?" Lavender asked.

"I know they will be more useful in a particular cupboard on the first floor," Trelawney replied vaguely.

"But that's really far from your classroom. How will they be more useful there?" Ginny queried.

"Ours is not to question how or why, ours is to respond to what has been _seen_ ," Trelawney insisted, leaving the three Gryffindors none-the-wiser.

And so the four traipsed through the castle, Wingardium-ing the boxes with them, until they got to Trelawney's chosen cupboard. Just as the teacher was charming the last box on to a shelf, a crystal ball fell from it and smashed loudly on the floor. A low hissing sound filled the air as blue and white smoke emanated from the balls debris and floated up towards them.

Then something very odd happened. Trelawney, who had been looking down at the fragments of crystal on the floor, snapped her head up and looked round at the three of them in turn, her head making strange jerking movements, her eyes wide and glazed, and her body stiff and tense. Her gaze settled into the middle distance between her and the three Gryffindors, as if entranced by something none of them could see. Then she started to speak in a hard, toneless voice, very different to her own:

"After the Boy-Who-Lived returns to his home, weary from the forests and fields he now roams, the final battle between the Light and the Dark will commence, the Army and the Order being the castles' best defence."

Lavender, bewildered, looked at Ginny and Neville but they both looked as confused as she felt.

"Professor Traw-" Ginny began but their teacher cut her off, continuing her strange soliloquy:

"When the protections are broken and the bloodshed starts, those with kindness, wit and courage will be set apart. Many will fight and many will fall, within the walls of this very school."

The Seer's head abruptly turned and fixed unblinkingly on Ginny.

"It will be won and lost before the fifth month ends, the most powerful weapon being the loyalty of friends."

Trelawney's head then jerked towards Lavender and Lavender felt a shiver prickle at her spine as the woman's wide eyes seemed to penetrate right through her, right into her soul.

"For the girl of the purple flowers, beware the wolf and his shape-shifting powers," and then, the same odd, robotic head movement, towards Neville this time. "For the boy born to those who sacrificed their minds for the Light, take heed of the request that you will receive that night. Remember your part is pivotal if the Chosen One is slain, for if you fail in your task, all else will be in vain!"

Then the professor finally blinked, her eyes losing that wide, glazed look, her previously tense and stiff posture relaxing. She looked around at them, a placating smile on her face, and her eyebrows raised as if she was surprised to find the three of them there at all.

"Right, well, yes. Thank you so much for helping me," she said in her normal voice, as if nothing had transpired since the smashing of the crystal ball.

"Professor, what - what you just said - what did you mean?" Ginny asked tentatively.

"Excuse me, child?" Trelawney asked innocently.

"You just said some stuff…about a battle…and a request…?" Neville queried.

"What? No, no, not me, I think you must be hearing things…right, I must be getting on…I need to check my tea leaf store…"

And she glided out the cupboard, leaving the three Gryffindors staring bemusedly in her wake.

"What, in the name of Merlin's right tit, was that about?" Ginny asked.

"That," Lavender said authoritatively, although unable to hide the worry from her voice. "Was a _real_ prophecy."

* * *

The three started to make their way to the Great Hall for lunch, going over Trelawney's words and what on earth they could mean, when they rounded a corner and came across a group of what looked like second and third years standing in a semi-circle around something on the floor.

"Hey!" Ginny called, because a group gathering like this, during these days in Hogwarts, usually meant something sinister was happening. A couple of the students turned around at Ginny's cry, took in the three Gryffindors and quickly cast a body-binding curse at them. Lavender, Ginny and Neville were all caught unawares and dropped to the ground, paralysed. Ginny and Neville had landed so most of their bodies were round the corner, out of eye-line of the group, but Lavender had fallen on her side with her head was in view of the group, which meant that, although she couldn't move, she could continue to observe what was happening.

She was able to see that the group were encircling Alfie Boot, Terry's younger brother, who was sprawled on the floor, his hand held up to a bloody nose, a river of red running down his cheek from a wound near his hairline. Movement flickered in the corner of Lavender's vision and she strained her eyes to see Sir Cadogan in one of the portraits nearby staring in alarm at the proceedings before cantering away, out of the pictures frame.

"I hereby conclude this trial!" One of the group declared, a Ravenclaw boy with curly brown hair who appeared to be the ringleader. "Your magical heritability is beyond questionable - you have failed to convince us of the authenticity of it! Which means that you have been found guilty of stealing magic! You will be punished!"

He nodded to a Slytherin girl who stood to his left. She held up a wand between her hands and broke it in half, before throwing it disdainfully on the floor.

Then the Ravenclaw raised his own wand towards Alfie. "Crucio!-"

"Expelliarmus!" Came a cry from down the corridor and, before the Cruciatus Curse fully hit Alfie, the Ravenclaw's wand flew out of his hand. The crowd parted at the arrival of curly-hair's disarmer: Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini pushed their way into the circle. Lavender's heart sank. Surely this couldn't get any worse.

She realised that she was hidden from the three newcomers by the group of younger students, although she still had a good view of what was going on. A movement in the corner of her eye pulled her gaze away towards Lord Cadogan again, who was back in a nearby portrait, eyeing the proceedings once more.

"What's going on here?" Nott asked authoritatively.

Looks of wariness and nervous shuffling rippled through the group of younger students. It was clear that these three seventh years were feared even amongst the younger Slytherin students.

"We - we were conducting a trial," the Ravenclaw nervously explained. "We're doing our duty to wizarding kind. He was found guilty. He couldn't prove his blood purity, he stole his magic. So we -"

"Broke his wand and started torturing him?" Malfoy asked. To Lavender's surprise, his tone was admonishing rather than approving.

Curly-hair opened his mouth and shut it again, much like a fish.

"Judge, jury and executioner?" Zabini questioned contemptuously.

Nott went and stood over Alfie who was staring wide eyed at the recent arrivals. "What's your name and blood status?"

"Alfie - Alfred Boot. Half blood."

"Your mother's maiden name?"

"Fawley."

"Fawley - one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight?"

"Yes."

As Nott was firing questions at Alfie, Zabini had gone to the two of them, bent over Alfie and stroked a finger through the blood on his cheek. Then he strode over to curly-hair.

"And what's _your_ name?" he demanded.

"Christian. Christian Speckles," the Ravenclaw replied apprehensively.

Zabini held his bloodied finger inches from Christian's face. "Do you know what one of the Dark Lord's most favoured principles is, Christian?" Zabini asked darkly.

"No - no," Christian stuttered, eyeing Zabini's finger warily.

"'Every drop of magical blood spilled is a waste,'" Zabini recited. "I know that one - I was there when he said it, as he sat at my dining table."

Christian paled. There was a tense pause.

"Lick it," Zabini demanded softly, shoving his finger closer to Christian's chin.

"What?" Christian frowned, clearly confused by the request.

"Lick it," Zabini repeated, his voice harder this time, thrusting his finger right up to Christian's mouth.

Lavender flicked her eyes to Malfoy and Nott, who were exchanging a look of puzzlement, clearly as bemused by Zabini's behaviour she was.

Christian's tongue darted out, the tip of it barely touching Zabini's bloodied finger before quickly retreating again.

"All of it," Zabini persisted, enunciating hard. After a pause, Christian's tongue came out again, and started to lick Zabini's finger, as the Slytherin slowly slid it into the boys mouth. It appeared that Christian had no choice but to suck it clean of Alfie's blood.

Lavender's stomach turned. She didn't think she'd seen anything more bizarre. Zabini finally lowered his hand, apparently satisfied.

"Tastes good, that magical blood, doesn't it?" Zabini asked. Christian looked like he was stopping himself from vomiting and didn't respond. " _Doesn't it_?"

"Y-yes," Christian stuttered.

"Good boy," Zabini said, smiling insincerely and taking a step back from Christian.

Malfoy came forwards then and addressed the small crowd of younger students. "Half of that spilt blood is from that of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. I suggest you leave the trials to the Registration Committee who no doubt have more advanced skills in investigating hereditary magic than you lot do," he said scornfully.

As Malfoy spoke, Lavender saw Theo go over to Alfie again, help him up, hand him his broken wand and say quietly, "Go to Professor Snape," Then, at Alfie's look of objection, Nott continued patiently, "Tell him Theodore Nott sent you. Tell him what happened. He'll help you fix your wand, or else get a new one to you."

As Alfie hurried away down the corridor, Lavender saw Lord Cadogan disappear from a painting again - he had been coming and going during the whole event. Nott turned and flicked his wand at Christian's I.S badge, before doing the same to the Slytherin girl's next to him.

"You need to treat these badges with more respect. Your enthusiasm is an asset but save it for persecuting real Mudbloods. I doubt you'll find any in this school though. If you have any faith in our headmaster and the Carrow Professors, you'd know they'd never let one in," Nott said coldly.

"Now fuck off," Draco concluded, making a shooing motion with his wand.

They scurried off down the corridor without another word. The three seventh year Slytherins shared a meaningful look that Lavender couldn't read before they themselves turned to saunter away, in the opposite direction to the petrified Gryffindors. It was clear they had not spotted Lavender's head poking around the corner.

" _Lick_ it? What the hell was that, Blaise?" Lavender heard Draco ask sardonically.

"I know you're into a lot of things, but please don't tell me you're into blood play," Theo added drily.

"No, mate. Just - he had pretty lips and I wanted them wrapped around _some_ part of me."

"You're sick," Theo said, although his tone was amused.

"Blame this school. It's making me sick..." and their voices faded away, to be replaced by a hurried clipping sound of heeled shoes on flagstones coming towards them from the other direction.

To her relief, Lavender saw a pair of worn, black boots come into her eye-line, boots that she was fairly sure belonged to McGonagall.

"Finite," the deputy head incanted and Lavender felt her muscles loosen and ecstatic relief as she regained control of her own body again.

" _What_ are you children doing in the floor?!" McGonagall demanded indignantly, as the three Gryffindors rose to their feet.

"We're not children," Neville grumbled.

"Does that adequately answer my question?" McGonagall looked around at the three of them, her eyebrows raised expectantly.

"We got petrified…" Ginny began and the three hurriedly explained what had happened, about the mock trial they had witnessed and the older students' intervention.

"It was quite terrifying to watch," Lavender said when they'd come to the end of the story. "They were only second and third years but they were so… _zealous_ …like they really believe it all!"

"They're being brainwashed," Ginny added. "Everything Alecto's teaching in Muggle Studies - they're absorbing it all without question, because there's nothing to contradict it anymore - not after the Book Burning and the Purification - there's no alternative information!"

McGonagall looked furtively around, eyeing the portraits on the walls, and then shuffled them into a nearby alcove.

"And they must be teaching Unforgivables to the younger students too!" Neville continued, outraged.

"It's indoctrination!" Ginny interjected. "All they've heard all year is about the vileness of Muggles and Muggles-borns -"

"Listen to me!" McGonagall interrupted in a quiet but characteristically stern voice. She looked around at them earnestly. "It is not just parchment, pages and books that contain knowledge and ideas. It is _minds and souls_. They may burn books, they may burn _thousands_ of _pages_ of words written by so-called Blood Traitors, Muggle-borns and Muggles alike, but the _ideas, knowledge_ and _art_ contained within those pages have passed through millions of minds and will continue to do so," She paused, her eyes flitting between them pointedly, before adding, "With a little help."

The muscles of McGonagall's face relaxed, as if she was satisfied that she'd said her piece. She looked Lavender up and down and then said more loudly. "Miss Brown. You seem to be wearing a somewhat modified school uniform. Again. Those are not regulation school shoes and what _have_ you done with your tie? Five points from Gryffindor." She then gave them a short, sharp nod, turned and swept away.

"'With a little help'…What on earth was she on about?" Neville asked begrudgingly as they stared after McGonagall's retreating back. "Did the teachers all band together and decide to talk in riddles today?"

* * *

A/N: Comments/thoughts/reviews/favs/follows are, as ever, loved. Thank you.

Many thanks to my beta Rachael.


	35. Secrets and Lies

**Ch. 35 Secrets and Lies**

 _'"It is my belief... that the truth is generally preferable to lies."'_

\- Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

 **Lavender**

"Was there a full moon the night of the party?" Parvati asked.

It was a week after the forest party and the beginning of a D.A. meeting, the time when people milled around the Room of Requirement and chatted quietly, waiting for everyone to arrive. In particular, they were waiting for Terry and Michael, key members of the group who were later than usual.

Lavender was sitting on the cushions next to Parvati, who had a thick book open on her lap. It was fairly unusual for Parvati to look so…academic. But Lavender knew that, contrary to what some people thought and what some of Parvati's school marks reflected, her best friend was far from stupid. When something stirred Parvati's curiosity she could read, research, analyse and turn theories over in her mind as intelligently as her twin could. It was just that, often, a subject didn't quite interest Parvati enough. But something was clearly stirring Parvati's curiosity now. Lavender peered over her friend's shoulder at the page she had open.

"Lycanthropy? Why are you reading about werewolves?" Lavender asked. Amycus had shown no interest in teaching them about nocturnal beasts and besides, they'd covered werewolves for their O.W.L.s.

"Just curious about something," Parvati replied vaguely to Lavender, and then addressed the room again, "So, was there a full moon?"

"Yeah. Yeah, there was," Anthony replied. "I remember 'cos we had to put an anti-werewolf ward around the clearing.

"Oh. So no werewolf could have got past that?" Parvati asked.

"No. They would have been put off by the fire too."

"Shame we couldn't put an anti-I.S. ward on the party…" Seamus cut in.

The others continued to talk - again - of the night of the party, of who had been caught and how they had tolerated their punishments, of how Hagrid was thought to be hiding out in one of the caves that pockmarked the mountains to the east of the school. Lavender deliberately tuned out, habitually pushing memories of that night into the corners of her mind. In an effort to distract herself, she looked over Parvati's shoulder again.

Parvati had turned the page to one headed _Lycanthropy and Heritability_ and after a moment Lavender noticed her tense and take a sharp intake of breath.

"You know the Sacred Twenty-Eight?" Parvati asked the group again after a few moments. "How sacred are they really?"

"They're not," Hannah replied confidently. "That list is Hippogriff shit. The Abbotts definitely have Muggle ancestors."

"Same with the Weasleys," Ginny confirmed. "And we're _proud_ of our Muggle heritage."

"Are _any_ of the families on the list genuinely pure-blooded?" Parvati persisted. Lavender frowned, more curious than ever about to what Parvati was getting at.

"It's unlikely," Anthony replied. "There's been quite a few papers that have convincingly disproved it…they've probably all been destroyed now though, in the Purification."

As the others continued debating the concept of 'pure-blood' in general, Lavender half listened and half eyed Parvati out the corner of her eye. Her friend now had a quill in hand and was underlying various phrases: _Although someone that has inherited a certain amount of werewolf blood will not turn at the full moon, they_ will _experience certain physical and psychological manifestations of the wolf form, particularly at the time of and around the full moon…loss of inhibitions…primal instincts and base drives such as lust and the desire to protect loved ones will dominate…anger and aggression...above average body temperature…a darkening of the irises…powerful sense of smell and sometimes hearing…_

The door of the room appeared in the brick wall of the R.O.R and Terry and Michael finally shuffled through it.

"You're late," Ginny commented, clearly unimpressed.

"Sorry," Terry replied. "It's been a tough day…not been feeling too well."

They didn't look too well either, Lavender observed. Both of the boys had dark circles under their eyes, their movements were slow and sluggish and they looked generally disheveled. Lavender noticed Parvati carefully fold the corner of the page of her book down before closing it and putting it aside.

"Think there's something going around Ravenclaw house?" Padma asked accusingly, eyeing Terry and Michael sharply whilst they avoided her gaze. Lavender had a strong sense that there was a hidden meaning in what Padma said that the rest of the room wasn't privy to.

Neville, Lavender, and Ginny then proceeded to tell the group about the 'mock trial' they had stumbled on a few days earlier and their subsequent encounter with McGonagall.

"...And Malfoy , Nott and Zabini stopped it but only cos Alfie's half-Sacred-Twenty-Eight and Merlin _forbid_ any of that blood should be spilt…then McGonagall's looking at us, all conspiratorial-like, and says 'with a little help'" Neville finished. "It was like she wanted _us_ to stop the younger children getting brainwashed. How are we meant to do that?"

"Well. That's obvious, isn't it?" Padma responded in a calm, matter-of-fact voice that rivalled Luna's.

The group looked at her and she pursed her lips as if exasperated. Now she reminded Lavender of Hermione. "Why did we start the D.A. in the first place, back in fifth year?" Padma asked patiently.

"To teach ourselves DADA..." Neville replied.

"Right. And why?"

"Because we weren't getting taught it properly!" Anthony said rather triumphantly, as if he'd cottoned on to what Padma was suggesting.

"Right. And are we getting taught Muggle Studies properly?"

There was a murmuring of "no"'s.

"But we, the older kids, know a lot of the theory - Muggle history, culture, philosophy, art. Like McGonagall said, they're in our minds and souls. We even have a few copies of the textbooks that we saved from the Book Burning," Padma gestured to a small stack of shelves by the side of the room.

"McGonagall wants us to teach the younger students Muggle Studies in D.A. meetings! But _proper_ Muggle Studies," Lavender exclaimed, finally understanding.

Padma nodded, smiling. "I'm sure she's aware the D.A. is operating again."

"It's not just dark curses and _fear_ You-Know-Who uses as weapons. It's indoctrination. So as well as fighting back with physical force, we need to fight back with our _minds_ as well," Hannah contemplated.

"Exactly!" Padma declared.

"That's great, that makes sense," Ginny said. "Except we hardly have any younger members of the D.A. to teach."

"Alfie's always wanted to join," Terry said, rubbing his red eyes. "I've stopped him cos I thought it'd be too dangerous. Now, after what happened, I'm thinking he's probably in _more_ danger _not_ learning defensive spells…I'll bring him with me to the next meeting."

"I think we need to come out the woodwork a bit," Neville said. "Morale is really low this term - I think we need to let people know we're still alive and kicking. That we're _here_. It gives people hope."

"We're a bit of a rumour - a myth - to the younger kids." Hannah agreed.

"So how do we do that? Publicise ourselves but without it leading back to us?" Michael asked.

"Maybe leaflets or posters? Like, a stack of parchments we drop from the Astronomy Tower at lunchtime or something?" Ginny suggested.

"Hmm…doing that in daylight might be tricky...we could leave them around at night..." Neville said.

"I can't help thinking we need something with more… _pizzazz_ than leaflets..." Susan pondered.

"Graffiti!" Seamus exclaimed. "But powerful _magical_ graffiti that won't go away with regular counter charms. Would you guys know any magic like that?" Seamus turned to the Ravenclaws, who nodded.

"I can think of some," Terry said.

"So we sneak out at night, and in the Great Hall and corridors and classrooms, we write stuff like -"

"'Dumbledore's Army - still recruiting!'" Neville interrupted Seamus excitedly.

"Yeah! And 'Harry Potter lives!'" someone else suggested.

"'Tom Riddle's mum loved sucking Muggle cock!'" Michael exclaimed. There was an awkward silence.

"I'm not sure about that one," Neville said uncertainly. "It's kind of a bit anti-Muggle, really, which is the opposite of what we're going for."

"And a bit misogynistic," Padma added.

"Yeah…I see what you mean, I meant it more to point out You-Know-Who's hypocrisy," Michael conceded sheepishly. "But, I mean, really - don't you ever wonder about it? How he even came to _be_? Bet his mum didn't know what she was going to unleash into the world when she lay back and spread her legs -

 _\- Don't tell me the Gryffindor boys are the only ones you'd spread these legs for -_

Flint's voice was hissing in Lavender's ear - the air of the forest was cold and wet in her throat - tree bark pushed hard into her back - tight ropes were cutting into her skin and she - and she just couldn't breathe properly. She squeezed her eyes shut to block it all out and she could hear her own breath in her ears, gasping and laboured -

"Breathe, Lavender, breathe, it's okay! Look at me, Lav."

Lavender felt soft, warm palms on her cheeks and she opened her eyes to see Parvati crouching down in front of her, cupping her face with her hands. She willed herself to stare into Parvati's large brown eyes, concentrating on the feeling of her friend's hands against her skin and her gentle, whispering voice.

"Is she having a terror-turn?" Lavender heard someone ask.

"Terror-turn?" Seamus asked. Lavender knew it was Seamus even though she couldn't see him - always knew his voice. And it calmed her even more.

"I think Muggles call it a panic attack," someone explained.

And by concentrating on Parvati and the other voices in the room, Lavender finally started to feel like the walls weren't moving inwards, like she wasn't suffocating, like her heart wasn't going to burst from her chest. She eventually managed to smile at Parvati and mumble, "I'm okay."

Seamus crouched down next to Parvati, a frown of concern on his face. "What's wrong, Lav? What happened?" he asked.

"Nothing, nothing, I'm fine," Lavender said dismissively, avoiding looking Seamus in the eye and wishing the rest of the D.A. would stop staring at her and get on with the meeting.

She'd avoided Seamus since the forest party. She knew her behaviour was confusing him, could tell by the hurt glances he'd given her each time he'd tried to speak to her or tried to be alone with her. He still didn't know what had happened after she'd gotten lost in the forest - no one did except the girls that found her - and even they still didn't know _exactly_ what had happened. Because how could Lavender explain it? What were the words? And Seamus -Seamus wouldn't want her now, would he?

To her relief, the others had started to talk again, to plan the graffiti mission in more detail.

"So we take two teams," Ginny was saying. "We'll take our galleons, so that we can alert each other if something goes wrong. If only we could communicate more efficiently though, like send an _actual_ message, instead of having to faff around with the coins, so we'd know how each other are doing straight away..."

As Ginny continued to talk, Lavender noticed Padma frequently exchange looks with Parvati, until Padma gave a barely-there nod.

"I think we can help with that - me and Padma," Parvati eventually said in response to Ginny's musings. The group looked at her expectantly. Parvati took a deep breath, as if she was about to confess a long-harboured secret. "Padma and I, we've always had…a bit of a connection. Since we were little. We've always had a sense of what the other was thinking. But it was a vague sense - a general idea of mood or thoughts. As we grew up it became stronger and then, in the last year, during the holidays, we started practicing Legilimency and Occlumency on each other. With some trial and error, and quite a bit of practice, we've managed to know what each other are thinking. But not in an Legilimency-type way. For one thing, it's not like entering someone's mind and seeing memories and images. It's more like, if Padma wanted to speak to me she could think it and, if she wanted me to, I could hear it. But we can't hear everything each other are thinking all the time, we can control it - "

"Thank Merlin - I wouldn't want to be exposed to the seemingly endless options of outfits Parvati might wear at the next Hogsmeade weekend," Padma cut in.

Parvati smiled ruefully. "And I wouldn't want to be exposed to a monologue of a 'History of Muggle Philosophy'…It took quite a bit of practice but we've got to the point where we can choose what and when to share our thoughts with each other. And we can do it over quite a distance, even through walls. We've done it when we've been in separate classes at opposite ends of the castle. But it doesn't work when one of us is asleep or unconscious. Or very drunk."

As Paravti had been talking, snippets of conversation and memories came back to Lavender, of when Parvati had inexplicably known things, things that were going on in the Ravenclaw common room or in other classes. Things that, really, she shouldn't have been able to know. She felt a sting of jealousy - that her best friend shared something so profound with someone else - which was followed by a stab of hurt that Parvati had never shared this secret with her.

"'I can't reach her now,'" Ginny quoted quietly with slight awe in her voice. "That's what you said when we took Padma to the hospital wing after the Book Burning - you'd been reading her mind, and then she slipped into unconscious?"

"And how you knew she'd woken up again, even before Pomfrey did!" Lavender added, and Parvati nodded.

"That's so cool!" Seamus exclaimed. "How come you haven't told us before?"

The twins looked wary, and exchanged a long look with each other. Lavender wondered if they were doing it then - 'mind-talking' with each other.

"McGonagall warned us..." Padma said tentatively.

"Warned you about what?" Neville asked.

"She noticed something happening between us at the Book Burning - when Padma was on the ground in the courtyard - she guessed that we were doing it then."

"But at the Book Burning neither of you had wands?" Lavender queried.

"Well, that's the other thing, which shocked even us when we were messing around with this. We can do it without wands."

There was a silence. People shifted uncomfortably. Controlled magic without wands, or potions, or some kind of magical artifact was almost unheard of.

"So McGonagall came to speak to me afterwards and I told her about it," Parvati continued. "But she said that even in the wizarding world, Legilimency without wands, or mind reading of the kind we have, is really rare. Although, it does have a name - a 'Legilimency Bond', it's called. She said that, as we were purebloods, You-Know-Who would have a particular interest in it. In us."

"An unhealthy interest," Padma said. "She said that he would probably want to work out how the magic that connects our minds works...which will mean, well, ' _experimentation'_ is the word I think McGonagall used. Experimentation on us."

There was another uncomfortable silence. No one wanted to voice what Voldemort experimenting on people might involve.

"So that's why we've kept quiet about it," Parvati concluded, and Lavender felt a little less hurt that Parvati had kept this secret from her.

"But - it's such a good tool for the D.A., so we decided to tell you," Padma said. "If we're going to do this in teams, it makes sense for Parvati and I to be in separate groups, that way we can communicate with each properly."

"Yes! Yes, that _is_ something we can use!" Ginny said, a mixture of awe and excitement in her voice.

"Okay…great! Let's do this - next Saturday night!" Neville exclaimed, in an obvious attempt to change the energy in the room. "Let's crawl out from the bloody woodwork!"

* * *

 **Theo**

Theo was patrolling the dim Hogwarts corridors with Daphne. Nearly everyone tried to get out of the Saturday night patrol but Theo didn't mind it, especially if he had Daphne for company.

As they rounded a corner near the kitchens, he tripped on an uneven flagstone and dropped his wand. He bent to retrieve it and when he straightened up, just as his head was at the height of Daphne's waist, he got a powerful waft of that scent again - it hit him like a wave, emanating from her pocket. The scent that he'd smelt on Daphne countless time since the start of the school year; the smell of her 'Ravenclaw' Christmas pajamas. It had always niggled at him, that scent, because it was so familiar. And now, with a jolt of recognition, he finally realised who it reminded him off: Parvati. The scent was like Parvati's, but at the same time not like hers at all.

He spied a flash of blue and grey in Daphne's skirt pocket and before he knew it, he'd thrust his hand out and pulled at the fabric, releasing a Ravenclaw tie. Daphne looked at him, startled and wary, as he held the tie up between them accusingly.

"Theo -" she began.

"Tie swapping, Daphne? _Really_?" Theo said scornfully. "This is fucking _stupid_."

"I'm not going to stop seeing her." Daphne's expression was defiant but Theo could see the desperateness in it too - like this Ravenclaw girl was the only thing that was saving her from the pain and fear that has marred their seventh year at Hogwarts. And he understood that feeling all too well.

"I'm not going to tell you to stop seeing her," Theo said more gently, although he'd prefer it if she did because she would be safer then. But he knew what a hypocrite he'd be if he said that. "But this!" He waved the tie at her. "Carrying this around is _suicide_ Daphne!"

He looked closer at the fabric. "At least you cut the name tag out. What if Pansy found it? She's as batshit as Bellatrix, Daphne!"

"I know -"

"You've got to be more careful. Tie swapping - it's kids' stuff -"

"I know!" Daphne repeated more loudly. "You're right!"

Daphne lifted her wand and pointed it at the tie. "Incendio," she murmured and the tie caught alight in Theo's hand. He immediately dropped it and they both watched silently as it fluttered to the floor, the flames gradually dying until there was nothing left of it but ash.

"We better get moving. We're meant to be covering the library now," Theo said gently and they both started walking again. "If she has one of yours, she'd better burn it too," then, at Daphne's silence: "She does, doesn't she?" He shook his head in disbelief.

"I'll tell her to get rid of it," Daphne said grimly and Theo nodded shortly.

"How long's it been going on for?" Theo asked, although he had a fair idea he knew the answer.

"Since the start of seventh year," Daphne replied quietly.

"Well, I'm surprised Pansy hasn't found out by now. She's like a vulture when it comes to info like this."

"I know."

"Why are you even friends with her anyway?" It was something Theo had never understood.

"I'm not _friends_ with her. Pansy doesn't have _friends_ as such. She has allies...and I've allied myself with her for...self-preservation," Daphne explained.

Self preservation. That was something Theo _could_ understand.

The two walked in thoughtful silence for a few moments until Theo spoke again, "So, out of all the girls at Hogwarts you could start an illicit affair with, why Padma Patil, Daphne?"

* * *

A/N: As always, your favs/follows/thoughts/reviews are so very much loved!

Thanks to my beta Rachael.


	36. Mask

**Ch. 36 Mask**

 _'"You will find that I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me."'_

― Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

 **Theo**

"So, out of all the girls at Hogwarts you could start an illicit affair with, why Padma Patil, Daphne?"

Daphne smiled knowingly.

"It was the Book Burning when I first noticed her properly," Daphne said with a fondness that Theo rarely heard. "The way she walked across that courtyard and refused to burn her book…the way she defied Amycus. She was so brave. She set a _precedent_ , Theo, for the rest of them - to resist. So I secretly took some lotuses to the hospital wing late one evening when she was under that curse, just as a gesture. I thought I'd hidden all traces of me on those flowers and wasn't going to pursue anything, but Padma did an advanced Revelio on them and she found out I'd given them to her. She came to find me - to thank me - and things went from there and…"

"Got complicated?" Theo finished, remembering the night in autumn term when he had come back to the Slytherin common room after his detention with Parvati and how Daphne had smelt of healing potions and flowers he couldn't name. Lotuses.

"Complicated, yes. But also... _good_. Great. She's amazing, Theo. So... _wise_. She knows all this stuff about -" Daphne lowered her voice even though there wasn't a soul around. "Muggle history and philosophy. It's fascinating. Stuff my parents don't know and that we've never been taught."

"So, you decided to get involved with a Muggle-loving, Potter-supporting, blood traitor who managed to get on the wrong side of the Carrows on the second day of the school year?" Theo's voice was amused rather than reproachful because, again, he hated to be hypocritical.

"I guess that's not a bad description. You would know. After all, she's like her twin in more ways than looks."

Theo halted mid stride and glared at Daphne. "How did you know? I - I've tried to be careful."

"You have. You've been really careful," Daphne reassured. "But I watch you, Theo. Because I care. I saw how you came back from that detention with blood on you. I knew something was up, that you wouldn't have beaten up a sixth year Hufflepuff. I remembered that Parvati Patil had detention with Slughorn that same evening. I noticed your… _exceptional_ …interest in the blood traitor wounds. I observed how you manipulated a conversation with Flint and Blaise so they ended up daring you to go and sit at the Gryffindor breakfast table next to her. I've noticed the way you watch her…And the whole debacle with their Potter party - they'd been warned, they knew we were coming. And I think only you could have warned them, Theo."

Theo's thoughts were reeling. He prided himself on his subtlety, successfully using wiliness and cunning when needed. He'd developed these traits for survival. He was a true Slytherin in _that_ respect, at least. But Daphne had just listed so many occasions when it seemed his subtlety had slipped.

Apparently his anxiety was noticeable, because Daphne continued to reassure him. "I'm the only one that's noticed, Theo. Don't worry, you've kept your cool, pure-blood-elitist mask on with everyone else."

Theo was prevented from saying anything in reply because just then Goyle and Millie came hurrying around the corner, looks of urgency on their faces.

"The blood traitors are out - they're vandalising the castle!" Millie exclaimed. "Come on, I saw some back at the Entrance Hall."

"I'm gonna call the rest of the I.S.!" Goyle declared, as he pushed past them. "Shitty little scumsuckers!" And he ran down the corridor in the direction of the Slytherin common room.

* * *

 ** **Parvati****

At least they had managed to write most of the graffiti before everything went to shit.

A huge plaque had been unveiled at the start of Spring Term, just over the entrance to the school, with the simple but ominous words: _Magic is Might_. On the Saturday night of the graffiti mission, Hannah levitated herself up to reach the plaque, whilst Parvati and Terry kept watch. When the Hufflepuff finally finished re-arranging the letters, disappearing some and conjuring others, the sign read instead:

 _Remember Cedric, who was so much more than a spare._

Hannah had just descended back to the ground when suddenly they were beset by at least three members of the I.S., who had all come from the direction in which Terry was meant to be keeping watch.

Paravti ran. She hastily fired protective spells, whilst dodging offensive ones, forcefully shoving past someone in the dark, not knowing whether they were friend or foe. It was a chaos of yells and shouts and streaming jets of red and white light. Parvati rounded a corner and ran straight into something - someone - who grabbed her and pulled her into a nearby classroom, hauling her across the room to the shadows at the other side.

"What the fuck -" but Theo Nott's angry voice was stopped by Parvati crashing her lips onto his. She hadn't seen him since the night of the forest party and that had been too long and being in such close proximity to him now, with both his hands gripping her waist - she couldn't not get closer to him - as close as she possibly could. Theo responded, pressing his mouth to hers for a long delicious moment before pulling away " - are you guys doing now?" The aggression in his voice was a contrast to the feel of his lips.

"Just a little -" Parvati cupped her hand under his jaw, pulling him to her again in another kiss, finishing by biting down softly on his lower lip. Theo stifled a moan in response. " - Re-decorating," Parvati finished, a coy smile hinting at the edges of her lips.

She tried to concentrate on Theo whilst at the same time communicating with Padma through her Legilimency Bond - telling her what had happened and that she was currently hiding in a classroom. It wasn't a lie, just not the whole truth, Parvati justified to herself.

"To what end?" Theo asked as Parvati's hands traveled down his chest. His voice seemed to soften in response to her touch and he reached out, running his fingers through her hair, slowly and tenderly gathering it together in a bunch. "What's that going to achieve?" He pulled her hair back gently, and the feel of it sent an electric shiver ripple through her.

"It's a morale booster -" she interrupted herself to let out a whimper as Theo tilted her head to the side and leaned forward to kiss her neck "- People are scared - it gives - hmm - people hope when - when - someone stands up to them." Parvati had to concentrate hard on echoing Neville's words as Theo moved from kissing to sucking to biting the soft skin of her neck.

 _Gotcha Par. We've just finished in the Astronomy Tower_ \- she heard Padma's voice in her mind just as someone turned the handle of the classroom door, and she remembered with dismay that both she and Theo had forgotten to lock it or conjure any protective charms at all.

"Get down," Theo hissed urgently. She sank to her knees as Theo positioned himself between her and the door.

"Nott - mate. Who've you got there?" Parvati recognised the voice of Crabbe. Or Goyle. No, it was definitely Crabbe. She was fairly confident she was unidentifiable to him, being crouched in the shadows.

"I just caught her skulking round the corridors," Theo responded indifferently. Parvati could see him twisting his head to address Crabbe, whilst he kept his hand lightly gripped in her hair. "She's being very obliging in return for me not handing her to the Carrows."

"Who is she?"

"Does it matter?" Theo said warningly. "Just some blood traitor slut. And you're kind of ruining the moment for me here." Parvati sensed Crabbe hesitate in the doorway. "I'm not sharing her Crabbe - she's mine. Now off you pop, go on." Theo made a shooing motion with his head. Parvati's eyes were at the level of Theo's crotch - at the level of a bulge in his trousers. She had an absurd urge to reach her hand out and touch him there, which she dismissed and chided herself for, remembering the precarious situation she was in.

"Just...after what you said about Flint, man...I didn't think you'd..." Crabbe's voice is hesitant, confused even.

"This is going to be way more pleasant for her than what the Carrows would have in store. Now piss off." Theo's voice had an edge to it that Parvati was starting to recognise - an angry, warning edge.

"Sure," Crabbe said and Parvati heard him turn and leave the room.

Theo immediately released her and she rose to her feet. Without exchanging a word, they both started conjuring various protective charms on the room. When they finally finished, they turned and looked at each other, silent for a few moments.

"Thank you," Parvati said eventually.

"Don't thank me. It's like I said - you give me _favours_ in return for information. Or helping you and your mates out of whatever shit you've got yourself into. That's all this is, Patil."

Parvati looked at Theo's broad shoulders, at the dark wave of hair falling over his forehead and she was so tempted to launch herself at him in a punishing kiss and act out their charade again. But she fought the urge. Because she also felt frustrated. Frustrated at his scornful tone and frustrated at them both for dancing around all the words that had been unsaid between them for too long.

"You're really going to keep doing this?" Parvati asked.

"Keep doing what?" Theo's voice was harsh but wary.

"This pretence? Not admit what this really is?"

"What is this _really_?" Typical Slytherin sneering polluted Theo's voice but Parvati ignored it, because she could also hear the genuine question underlying his tone. She moved closer to him, a knowing half-smile on her lips, and placed a hand lightly on his chest.

"I know what you're doing Theo, with your cruel words and that cold mask you wear," she said slowly, softly. "You're trying to push me away. Well..." She slid her hand down his chest, stilling it at his waist, looping her fingers lightly around his belt buckle as she leaned towards him and kissed him gently on the cheek. She sensed him tense, as if he were fighting back the urge to respond. "I'm not going anywhere. Because I know it's just that - a mask. I know you don't mean any of it - I've seen through it - I saw through it that first evening in the potions cupboard, because you let your guard down then more than you know, Theo. And I've seen through it so many times since..."

She moved her hand down further, cupping it at his groin, feeling him instantly harden underneath her palm and heard him let out a stifled grown. Then, his breath uneven, he reached down, grabbed hold of her wrist and pushed her hand away from him. "Stop."

Parvati wasn't sure if he was asking her to stop her words or her touch. "Theo, it's okay to _feel_ sometimes. To feel something other than lust or anger."

He glared at her and continued to hold her hand away from him as if it were a weapon, as if he were unsure what would happen if she got too close again.

"Emotions are dangerous, Patil," he whispered eventually, although the usual conviction in his voice was lost.

"What?! That's ridiculous! If you don't feel anything, how do you know what to _do_ about something? How to _act_?"

"You can't make decisions based on feelings, you have to make decisions based on _thinking_. Logic. Emotions can cloud and confuse and distract," Theo argued.

"So why did you just drag me in here, and save me from Crabbe?"

"Because if I saved you from being caught, you'd have to repay me in some way, and I'm quite enjoying our exchanges."

"That's bullshit - if that's what you really wanted, you'd just take it - like your mate Flint did with Lavender!" The words were out before Parvati could stop them.

Theo tensed, and his mask slipped. He frowned. "He's not my mate," he said bitterly, releasing Parvati's wrist and rubbing his face in a resigned fashion. "I'm sorry about what happened to her."

Theo's reaction was enough for Parvati to know that Flint had, after all, remembered what he'd done and Theo somehow knew too. At the thought of Flint telling his housemates about attacking Lavender - brazen and shameless - anger bubbled up in her again, although she didn't know if it was at Theo, or at Flint, or at the whole shitty situation they were in.

"Do you know how crap I _feel_ about that? I should have been with her - if I'd been with her maybe - but I was with _you_ \- sucking Slytherin cock whilst she was - " Parvati couldn't even bring herself to say the words. She felt tears stinging her eyes and she hit out at Theo's chest. "Do you know how _awful_ that makes me feel? The only consolation I have is that this - this _thing_ between us," - shove - "It - it might actually _mean_ something!" - hit - "But then you go about again acting as if it's still _nothing_!"

Parvati went still, her shoulders sinking as if in defeat, her hand slackening on his chest and Theo, who'd stood passive as Parvati had pushed and shoved at him, reached out and clasped his hands gently around her forearms, holding them to him.

"It's not your fault," His voice was soft but earnest, his eyes digging into hers, as if imploring her to believe him. "Even if you hadn't been with me, there's no guarantee you would have been with her. And even if you had, you don't know if you could have stopped it. It's not your fault," he repeated.

"Crabbe just said 'after what you said about Flint'. What did he mean?" Parvati asked, freeing one of her hands to brush away a tear that had rolled down her cheek. Theo was frowning at her crying as if it personally offended him.

"Flint was bragging about it in the common room," Theo explained bitterly. "Only to the guys. I don't think any of the girls know. And I - I kind of lost it..." Theo trailed off.

"You threw Salazar's coat of arms at him?" Parvati prompted, and despite herself, she found herself smiling at the thought of it.

Theo half-smiled but there was sadness in his eyes. "Yeah. Then I asked, rather forcefully, for him not to go near Brown again, not to look at her, or speak to her, or speak _about_ her...I'm pretty sure he won't. And that no one else will."

"Thank you," Parvati said. "What did the other Slytherins think of that?"

Theo shrugged, a wry smile on his lips. "They might think I have a thing for Lavender Brown. But...that shouldn't matter. Mostly they'd do anything to avoid triggering my rage again...so I'm pretty sure they'll keep their trap's shut about the whole thing."

There was a pause and Parvati said bitterly. "It shouldn't be silenced though. It should be _Flint_ that's ashamed of what he did. He should be _castrated_. Can't something be done about him?" But even as she asked it, Parvati knew the answer.

"Like what? The Carrows would probably give him a medal if they found out what he'd done. They'd probably incorporate it into their disciplinary regime!"

"I know," Parvati said resignedly.

A silence stretched between them that was leaden with a kind of melancholy. To break it, Parvati leaned towards Theo again and brushed her lips against his. He responded instantly, deepening the kiss and reaching out to wrap his arms around her waist. Parvati pushed her body into his, wanting to feel as much of him against her as possible. He groaned into her mouth, then abruptly pulled himself away from her.

"I - I can't. We can't - we can't keep doing this," He sounded tormented. "You know what I stand for. You saw what I was like that night. I'm not good for you -"

"That wasn't you, though," Parvati insisted, reaching out to caress his face again, peppering kisses on his cheek, his jawline, down to his neck.

"Yes...yes, it was," Theo murmured.

"That was the wolf," Parvati mumbled into the hollow just above his collar bone.

Theo tensed and Parvati slowly looked up to meet his eyes. "How do you know?" his voice was hard again.

"I'm not stupid Theo, you said so yourself all those months ago, remember?" Parvati said, and she saw something relax behind his irises.

"No one can know."

"You must know by now I'm good at keeping secrets," Parvati said through a knowing smile as she reached out and started pulling at his shirt to untuck it. Then they were kissing hungrily again, Theo's hands greedily travelling all around Parvati's body, setting off waves of arousal that swept through her -

 _\- Par - we've been caught! Where are you guys? Did you get back to your common room okay? -_ Padma's voice cried out urgently in Parvati's mind.

"Stop - wait," Parvati said, stilling Theo's hands with her own and looking away from him, concentrating on Padma. Theo complied, stepping back from her and frowning in concern.

 _Who? Who's been caught?_ Parvati asked Padma.

 _Just me and Neville - I think the others got away!_

"Neville and Padma - they've been caught," Parvati murmured, her heart speeding up in alarm.

"How do you know?" she was dimly aware of Theo asking.

 _They're taking us to the Carrows now._

"Fuck. They're going to the Carrows," Parvati repeated, not aware she was speaking out loud

"You can - you have a Legilimency Bond with your twin?"

At his words, Parvati's head jerked back towards Theo, startled, realising how much, in her slight panic, she'd given way. Of course studious, intelligent Theodore Nott would have heard of Legilimency bonds, would have pieced together her odd behaviour with magical mind theory and worked it out.

"No one can know Theo -" she began warningly.

"Of course. You must know by now I'm good at keeping secrets," he said, echoing her earlier words back at her.

Then he drew her to him and held her tightly. It felt different to their previous embraces: warm and affectionate rather than raw and sexual.

"Come on," he said, taking her hand. "I'll help you get back to Gryffindor Tower."

* * *

A/N: Huge thanks to my beta Rachael.

As ever, follows/favs/reviews/thoughts and questions are cherished and treasured. Watcha thinking? Go on, tell me! ;o)


	37. What is Right and What is Easy

**Ch. 37 What is Right and What is Easy**

 _"Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right, and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good and kind and brave because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort_

\- Dumbledore, speaking about the death of Cedric Diggory, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

 **Lavender **

"So what went wrong?" Ginny demanded, looking pointedly around at the eight or so D.A. members who were sat haphazardly around the Room of Requirement.

The atmosphere was subdued and defeated. It was several nights after the graffiti mission; they hadn't thought it safe to meet earlier. Neville and Padma had been called up to Snape's office immediately after being caught but had been told that their punishment would be administered sometime the following week.

There had been a tense few days when the D.A. wondered whether the Carrows would interrogate Neville and Padma to find out who the other 'vandals' were, by using Veritaserum or worse. But they hadn't - there was no Veritiserum in the castle apparently. Lavender did wonder why Snape wasn't using Legilimency on them - he was meant to be proficient at it. Maybe they were content with having caught Neville and Padma. Padma _was_ a bit of a trophy to them - they had seemed to have it in for her ever since the Book Burning, Lavender mused.

The group had consoled themselves with the fact that the school was still littered with D.A. 'promotional material'; it was impossible to walk more than twenty yards through the castle without coming across graffiti or a poster. And they had set up a contraption, just outside the window of the Astronomy Tower which had released hundreds of leaflets down onto a packed courtyard during lunchtime the day after the night of the mission.

The Ravenclaws had taught the D.A. members advanced 'permanency charms' and it seemed that the Carrows hadn't worked out any spells to counter them yet. And if Flitwick knew them, he clearly wasn't sharing them. Even though it had only been a few days since they had peppered the school with anti-Death Eater slogans, the D.A. members had noticed a small trickle of students, old and young, eyeing them subtly, then gradually approaching them, whispering that they wanted to join. Their numbers were already growing.

Now, though, wasn't the time for celebrating what had gone right. Now was the time for dissecting what had gone wrong. Ginny looked pointedly around at them, her gaze finally settling on Parvati.

"Padma said you were the first group to be found - what happened Par?"

Parvati looked uncertain. "Well, Terry and Hannah and I, we were at the entrance to the castle - Terry and I were keeping watch, then a load of I.S. came from the direction of the kitchens..."

"And who was keeping watch in that direction?"

"I was," Terry admitted reluctantly. He still didn't look well, Lavender observed. The circles under his eyes were a kind of purplish colour now, his complexion was almost grey.

"And?" Ginny insisted. "Didn't you see or hear them coming? Hadn't you used any charms?"

"Yes, of course I had but...I...I kind of fell asleep," Terry was looking at the floor, avoiding everyone's gaze. "Well...more like passed out."

"What?!" Ginny appeared to attempt to calm herself. "Are you still ill or something?"

"Kind off," Terry mumbled.

"Tell them the truth or I will," a stern voice suddenly rang out and the group turned towards the speaker: Padma. "You need help. Both you _and_ Michael."

Lavender observed that Michael looked worse than Terry, if that were possible. The two Ravenclaw boys looked at each other, as if trying to decide something, then Michael gave a small nod.

"We...we've been taking..." then Terry seemed to falter and looked beseechingly at Padma.

"They've been taking Somnium Beatus," Padma explained matter-of-factly.

"Sommy?" Ginny asked incredulously.

"But that's - that's illegal isn't it?" Hannah asked.

"Not strictly," Michael said. "You need to have a special license."

"Which you don't have! It's only Healers that would have that license," Padma interjected admonishingly.

"Why on earth did you decide to dabble with that shit? Don't you know how addictive it is?" Neville questioned.

"It was only meant to be once but...it feels so good...just to escape from all this shit..." Michael said to the floor, forehead cupped in his hand, his face half hidden.

"And you knew about this?" Ginny asked Padma accusingly. Padma looked back at her defiantly.

"They kept saying they'd stop. I didn't think it would help matters if everyone knew, but after the graffiti mission went tits up..." Padma trailed off.

"What about the rest of you?" Ginny asked the room.

"No one else knew. Except Anthony. But he's stayed away from it," Terry answered.

"I knew it was going round the school," Seamus mumbled. "Didn't think anyone I knew would be taking it."

"Where in Merlin's name are you getting it from anyway?" Neville asked.

Terry looked around the group warily, "Blaise Zabini," he mumbled, almost inaudibly.

"Zabini? You're _dealing_ with a Slytherin?!" Ginny shrieked incredulously. Her eyes were blazing as if she could set fire to something by her mere gaze, and Lavender wouldn't have been surprised if her hair started crackling.

"Not really _dealing_. Technically. He gave us a lot of it for free," Michael said sheepishly.

"Motherfucking Merlin, that's even worse!" Ginny was gesticulating wildly and Neville took a subtle step away from her, seemingly to avoid getting hit by a stray arm. "The Slytherins probably planned all this - to get you messed up - don't you get it? This is the kind of state they _want_ you to be in! Cos you're useless like this!"

"Maybe not all Slytherins are that bad -" Parvati began quietly, but Ginny rounded on her, cutting her off.

"How can you say that after what happened to Lavender? You weren't there but I know what I saw - they'd disarmed her, tied her against a tree and Flint's hand was up her skirt!"

It felt like Lavender had been winded, like all the breath had been knocked from her lungs, and she tried to stay in the room, tried not to go back to the forest - she reached out a hand to Parvati, to ground herself, to feel her friends soft palm against hers - staring at the cracks in the floorboards of the room, noticing how different they were to the moss and roots of the forest floor, as she tried to steady her breath.

There was a stunned silence as Ginny's words hung in the air and Lavender was aware of people looking apprehensively between her and the redhead. Then Seamus stood up and Lavender forced herself to look at him. He was staring at Ginny, his expression stony.

"What the fuck did you just say?" His voice was low and hard, and Lavender knew there was anger simmering under it.

Ginny, for once, looked uncertain and regretful. Instead of replying to Seamus, she turned to Lavender.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, and Lavender could see the sincerity in her eyes. Ginny Weasley and her fiery passion, her lack of filter and her big mouth. Lavender didn't think she had the strength to be angry with her. Seamus had turned expectantly to Lavender now.

In explanation, Lavender forced herself to shrug and tried to find the words. "At the forest party, after we got separated...I got lost...I was on my own and Flint and Goyle found me and things ...got a bit nasty," Seamus' eyes flickered with alarm. "But it's fine," Lavender lied. "Ginny and Padma and Hannah found me and we got away fine."

There was another tense silence as the room seemed to take this in, seemed to try to fill in the yawning gaps in Lavender's story, to contemplate what her euphemism 'got a bit nasty' could mean.

"Cunts," Michael mumbled, his head still in his hands. "Sick little _cunts_."

"They shouldn't be allowed to get away with this!" Neville exclaimed between clenched teeth. His cheeks were flushed red and his hands were balled into fists. It was possibly the angriest Lavender had ever seen him.

"But they are," Hannah said sadly.

"This is fucked _up_!" Neville yelled and the rest of the room seemed to collectively flinch as he drove his fist down onto a nearby table.

But despite her efforts, Lavender's thoughts were racing in a way which made her think that she was finally, _genuinely_ going mad - she'd feared this might happen, that she was going to lose her mind - and it was this room - this conversation - that was making her go crazy, because her thoughts just wouldn't slow down. She had to get out - get away from them - so she found herself brushing off Parvati's hands, standing to her feet and hurrying from the room, Seamus' frown of concern a blur in her peripheral vision as she ran past him, out of the door and down the corridor, with no particular destination in mind, just wanting to get away. To escape.

* * *

 **One week later**

Lavender was only half listening to Sprout as she carefully observed Neville and Hannah who had, as usual, partnered up for the latest Herbology project. Lavender felt more relaxed in her Herbology classes than anywhere else - except maybe Gryffindor Tower - in a greenhouse pocketed away in the grounds of Hogwarts, surrounded by potted plants and foliage. And in sharing the class with Hufflepuffs only. No Slytherins. No Marcus Flint.

Neville and Hannah were sat unnecessarily close to each other and Lavender watched as Hannah threw her head back and laughed delightfully at something Neville had said. It was very... _un-Hannah_ , but Lavender had noticed the Hufflepuff display this kind of behaviour more and more around Neville. Flirting. Flirting which had started subtle but had become increasingly obvious in the last few weeks. Surely Neville had also noticed it by now? And it was clear, at least to Lavender, that Neville liked Hannah too...when on earth was he going to make a move?

The bell rang for the end of the lesson, jolting Lavender out of her musings.

"Okay, class dismissed - thank you everyone!" Sprout's voice rang out across the greenhouse. "Make sure you tidy any stray leaves and debris from your tables and remember there is more sena feed if anyone needs it for their plants!"

As Lavender and Parvati left the greenhouse, Seamus fell into step beside them and said in a low voice, "Have you heard about Marietta Edgecombe?" At the girls' blank looks, he continued. "Last Hogsmeade weekend - she disappeared."

"Disappeared?" Lavender said.

No one really talked about Marietta. She was a horrible reminder of the worst of the Ministries new policies. They had all heard about her being 'Re-Parented' to Macnair and had noticed how the weight had dropped off her when she had returned to school after the Christmas holidays, her uniform suddenly big and baggy over her small frame. They had all observed her blank gazes as she stared across the library during study periods, her books unopened, and had heard how her marks had plummeted. They had seen how she sat at the Ravenclaw table at mealtimes, pushing food around her plate but never really eating any of it.

The D.A. had forgiven her tattling in fifth year - that all seemed childish and like a lifetime away now - and they didn't even hold the fact she'd joined the I.S. against her. There was no doubt she was just as much of a victim of this regime, if not more of one, than any of them. None of them would have wished on her the nightmare she was living through now. But it was painful to acknowledge her plight - a life as Macnair's plaything was just too awful, to horrific to contemplate. Because what could they do? Marietta just reminded them of their impotence, their helplessness, as well as the awful fate of what could happen to any of them.

"Yeah," Seamus continued, as they trudged up the hill to the castle. "Apparently, she went into The Hog's Head and never came out."

"The Hog's Head? The one with the dodgy landlord? Oh Merlin..." Lavender grimaced.

"No, no, we think this is good news," Seamus whispered enthusiastically. "Apparently, her parents' house is boarded up...I've heard they somehow managed to get Marietta from Hogsmeade and the whole family have escaped to France."

"Oh," It felt like something that had been pressing on Lavender's heart loosened. "I hope they've made it."

She turned to Parvati to see her friend's reaction but Parvati was looking away along the hillside with a frown on her face, clearly not listening.

"Pav?" Lavender said gently. Parvati's head jerked to her, and she blinked at her and Seamus, as if taking them in for the first time.

"I - I've got to go - I've forgot that homework for Trelawney- I'll see you after lunch, in Charms," Parvati stuttered and took off in a near run up the hill to the school.

And Lavender was left alone with Seamus, something she had continued to avoid over the last week.

"I - I should probably go to the library and finish Trelawney's homework too," Lavender lied, making to hasten up the hill.

Unexpectedly, Seamus reached out and grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop. She was surprised not to feel rising panic at Seamus' touch; at a restraining hand around her wrist.

"Lavender - stop this!" Seamus exclaimed, his voice hard and firm. Lavender was caught off guard by his tone.

"Stop what?" she asked weakly.

"Running away from me!" Seamus' tone was exasperated but there was a hint of desperateness in it that Lavender couldn't ignore. He released her arm but Lavender didn't move. "Come with me. Just this lunchtime. I'll take you somewhere. Anywhere you wanna go."

Lavender let out a derisive laugh. "How're you going do that Seamus? We're in a castle in the middle of the Scottish Highlands with an anti-Disapparation ward on it and Dementors at every exit."

"Just trust me," Seamus replied, holding out his hand for Lavender to take. And after a pause, she did, again surprised to feel safe and calm with his hand clasped in hers. He led the way round the back of the castle and into a disused broom shed by the side of the old Quidditch pitch. There was an old workbench pushed up against the side of the room and large cushions on the floor at one end.

"It may surprise you to learn Seamus, but this wasn't my top choice of location," Lavender remarked, eyeing an old potions bottle and a copper goblet on the floor.

"So let's find out what is," Seamus replied, a knowing grin on his face. "When I said I'd take you anywhere, that wasn't strictly true...I meant _this'll_ take you anywhere." And he drew from his pocket a small vial of liquid and held it up to between them triumphantly.

Lavender had never seen anything like it. It was an array of colours: bright pink liquid swirled with electric blue, amongst shimmers of gold that looked like miniature stars. The solution turned slowly around, the colours occasionally mixing then separating again.

"What is it?" Lavender asked, although she felt she could take a good guess. Her gaze stayed locked on the vial, mesmerised by the continuous whirling of the colours.

"Somnium Beatus," Seamus responded, confirming Lavender's suspicions. She didn't know whether to be amused or cross.

"After the discussion we had with the D.A.? After the state you saw Terry and Michael in? Seamus, you're ridiculous! Is this where Terry and Michael came? To get mashed?" Lavender asked. The potions paraphernalia that littered the floor suddenly made sense.

"Yeah, they conjured the cushions at the beginning of the year. Lav, I just got a tiny bit of it...just for you...as a one-off...I thought it would be good for you to...escape for a bit..." Seamus explained. "I'll be right here. I'll take care of you, make sure you're okay."

Lavender stared at the swirling pinks and blues and golds and thought about how wonderful it would be to get lost in a world of blissful dreams, to forget about the darkness of forests, about third years casually casting Crucios, about not knowing what was happening outside of Hogwarts whilst they tried to survive it all.

But. But she'd still have to come back to it all - to reality. And would the experience of escaping, even for a little bit, make it so much harder to return to?

"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live," Lavender mumbled, as the gold glitter of the liquid changed to silver.

"Huh?"

"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live," Lavender repeated more clearly. "It was one of Harry's favourite quotes of Dumbledore's apparently...no. No. Thanks Seamus - it would be nice - it would be easy, but I don't think it would be right. I don't think it would be good for me."

Lavender felt a fluttering of guilt as she saw the disappointment in Seamus' eyes. She knew he'd just wanted to make things better for her, even for a little while, and now felt he'd somehow failed.

"But - but I want to stay here with you for a bit. You're enough. I don't need this," Lavender gestured to the potion. "You're enough right now. Maybe we could just - talk."

A smile hinted at the edges of Seamus' lips as he pocketed the vial. "Okay," he said. "Let's sit down." And he made towards the cushions.

"Hang on," Lavender brandished her wand at the cushions and cast a powerful Scourgify. "Merlin _knows_ what people have been doing on these!" She explained, trying not to sound prim.

Once Lavender was satisfied the cushions were clean enough, they slumped down in them, Lavender noticing self-consciously that her body was only an inch or two from Seamus'. There was a moment of comfortable silence before Seamus turned to her, his expression solemn.

"I'm sorry about what happened. After the party. Is that why you've been - I thought we'd kind of...got together. But then you were...distant," Seamus stuttered out.

Looking into Seamus' serious brown eyes seemed to evoke some kind of natural Veritaserum in Lavender because before she knew it she was saying, "I didn't think you'd want me. I didn't know if you liked me anyway. Then - after what happened...most people already think I'm a stupid and shallow...doesn't take much to add 'slut' to the mix too."

Seamus face morphed into a frown of anger. "Are you fucking serious? From what I heard, you were _attacked_ Lavender. You do know what happened wasn't your fault, right?"

Lavender looked away, because it was hard looking at the innocent indignation in Seamus' eyes. "I know that rationally...just some of the stuff Flint said..." and she couldn't say anymore, of course she couldn't because her heart was already beating too fast and her lungs were feeling like they'd never be able to take enough oxygen in ever again.

"What? What did he say?" Seamus asked softly.

"I - I can't - I don't want to talk about it," Lavender said with gentle finality.

"Okay...well, I think we can rule 'slut' out regardless...and you're definitely not stupid."

"So the shallow part still stands then?" Lavender asked, only half joking. "Sometimes, I think the Hat made a mistake. That I should have gone in Slytherin...my mum was in Slytherin, you know...my dad was a Gryffindor..."

Seamus' frown deepened. "Lavender, why did you join the D.A.? Back in the fifth year, I mean?"

Lavender was puzzled by Seamus' conversational tangent, but contemplated the answer nonetheless. She thought about that bitterly cold day in fifth year when she had gone with Parvati into the warmth of the Hog's Head, joining the hushed group of Hogwarts students in an alcove at the back.

"Well, I wanted to get the goss, didn't I? I wanted to know what Harry was going to say about You-Know-Who."

"But then why did you stay? Once you'd found out all the gossip - afterwards, when you knew how dangerous it could be, joining the D.A.?"

Lavender paused, thinking. "Well, despite what my mum had said about it all, I believed what Harry said. And it was awful what had happened to Cedric, and I hated what Umbridge was doing to our school..."

"So you had faith in Harry - in the truth - when so many didn't. Including me. I went along with what _my_ mum believed, with what the _Prophet_ was spouting, because it was _easier_. It was easier to believe that Harry was lying than to believe that You-Know-Who had returned. Because it was more convenient and much less scary.

"But you didn't choose what was easy, you chose what was _right_ , even when most people believed something different. And you did something brave, when it would have been easier to go through the motions that fifth year and keep your head down. That's not stupid. And it's _definitely_ not shallow," Seamus smiled plaintively, reaching out a hand to stroke a stray hair away from Lavender's face.

"And that day you disarmed Flint - you stood up to a bully - a _powerful_ bully - to protect a friend. Doing what was right and brave. You couldn't be more Gryffindor if you tried, Brown," Seamus continued. "There's always gonna be things we don't like about ourselves...I beat myself up for not believing in Harry straight away and I've tried to make up for it ever since...that's partly why I was so stubborn with the Mudblood and essay thing... but we've got to forgive ourselves our mistakes, otherwise it'll only eat us up inside."

Seamus' words whirled around Lavender's mind, and she lay silent for a moment, trying to take it all in. He watched her, no doubt waiting for her reaction to his mini-soliloquy, and it was the vulnerability floating around behind his irises that caused Lavender to lean forward and press her lips to his. The kiss was tentative at first, even more so than their kiss at the party, and she wondered if that was due to the lack of alcohol, or the knowledge of what had happened to her since. But then it lengthened and deepened, warm and sweet and tender.

Lavender hadn't known how she'd feel being this close to a man again. She'd been wary of it, scared it would trigger unwanted memories. But this - this seemed fine. More than fine. Their bodies fell towards each other, and Seamus pressed himself against her, his hardness pushing against the top of her thigh and Lavender let an involuntary strangled little moan escape her mouth.

But when his hand travelled up her leg, passed her knee, curling around to the front of her thigh, the memory of icy fingers pulling at her knickers flooded Lavender's mind, her heart was pounding somewhere in her throat, and she instinctively pulled away from the kiss, her muscles seeming to freeze. Seamus instantly withdrew his hand, looking at her anxiously.

"I'm sorry - " he began.

"It's fine - "

"We can go slow - or fast - or whatever you want," Seamus garbled, and Lavender realised he was as unsure about this whole thing as she was. Which was oddly comforting. "We've got all the time in the world."

 _It will be won and lost before midsummer ends…for the girl of the purple flowers, beware the wolf and his shapeshifting powers._ Trelawney's words fluttered across Lavender's mind.

"We might not. We might not have much time at all," Lavender said sombrely.

"Then we'll have to make the most of what we have…"

* * *

On their way to Charms after lunch, Lavender and Seamus ran into Ginny who anxiously informed them that Padma and Neville had been hauled away sometime in the last hour to suffer their punishment for the graffiti night mission, the nature of which still remained a mystery. The two seventh years arrived late to their lesson, slipping into their seats just as the class started, and so Lavender didn't have a chance to de-brief with Parvati about Padma and Neville. As the lesson began, Lavender found herself distracted by thoughts of what had just happened between her and Seamus - of his words and his touch - and so it took her awhile to notice that there was something slightly... _off_ about Parvati. She seemed to be avoiding eye contact with her, and any interaction at all really, hiding her face with her dark, flowing hair. Maybe she was just worried about Padma, Lavender reasoned.

But then a few odd things happened, things which most other people, who didn't know Parvati as much as Lavender did, probably wouldn't have noticed. Firstly, when Parvati was called upon to answer a question on warming charms, she answered correctly, even though Lavender knew that Parvati hadn't known the answer last week.

Then, when Parvati expertly conjured a hand-held fire, a charm she had always struggled with, Lavender began to have an idea of what was going on. By the end of the lesson, Lavender was fairly confident her theory was correct but she was determined to find out for certain.

As she and Parvati made their way through busy corridors to their next lesson, Lavender abruptly grabbed Parvati's arm when they passed a rarely used girls toilet and dragged her into it, swiftly performing advanced locking and protective spells in her wake.

"Homenum Revelio!" Lavender exclaimed, waving her wand around the room and under the stall doors. There was a silence. They were alone.

Lavender rounded on the girl that she had dragged into the toilets, who had since backed herself into a far corner, looking apprehensive.

"Padma!" Lavender addressed the girl accusingly. "What the _hell_ is going on?!"

* * *

A/N: Favs/follows but especially your thoughts are cherished and treasured. Thank you.

Thanks to my beta Rachael and to all you lovely faithful readers of this fic.


	38. The Fear

**C** **h. 38 The Fear**

 _"'You think the dead we love ever truly leave us? You think that we don't recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble?'"_

 _-_ Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

 **Lavender**

"Padma!" Lavender addressed the girl accusingly. "What the _hell_ is going on?!"

"Parvati said you'd probably work it out straight away," Padma replied sheepishly.

"Of course I would! I've shared a room with her for six and a half years, from that first night when she cried herself to sleep because she'd gotten sorted into a different house from you! And spent nearly every waking hour with her besides, when we've been at school at least. You've swapped," It was a statement, not a question. "Why?"

Padma let out a resigned sighed. She took a step forward from the corner she'd been cowering in and leaned against one of the sinks. "You remember the Dark Arts lesson on Boggarts, at the start of term?"

"Yes."

"Well, that wasn't a re-cap for us so we could practice our Riddikulus charms. That lesson was for _them_ \- to find out what our current worst fears are. It's a new punishment - to be locked in the dungeons with our _actual_ worst fear, for however long the Carrows see fit. They're calling it 'The Fear' - so imaginative of them. It's how they've decided to punish Neville and me for the graffiti. They gave us half an hour between telling us and when we had to report down to the dungeons. So I mind-talked Parvati and we decided to swap quickly because we have different fears. Mine are snakes. Particularly huge ones. Hers are -"

"Mummies -" Lavender interrupted, finally finding her voice after quelling the growing horror she felt at the news Padma was imparting.

"Yes. Parvati doesn't mind snakes at all. She even wanted one as a pet once. I obviously vetoed that. So we thought we'd swap because she'd be able to bear it...I would have done the same for her if it was the other way round," Padma finished, sounding almost defensive.

Lavender remembered Padma walking into the middle of the courtyard the evening of the Book Burning - brave and alone - walking purposely away from the bonfire and towards Amycus instead.

"Of course you would," Lavender conceded quietly. "It was a good idea…so, they're going to be _real_ snakes?"

"Yep. That's why it took a while for them to administer the punishment. They were finding the snakes and getting them to the school. The Carrows _do_ like to put a lot of effort into their disciplinary practices," Padma remarked sardonically.

"But what if your fears are something like -" Lavender stopped herself saying 'rejection or loneliness'. "Heights - or something - something you can't put in a dungeon?"

"Then they _will_ just use a Boggart. Which is what they're doing with Neville. I've been mind-talking with Par - they've been in the dungeons for about an hour now. She's fine. She says she actually wants to _pet_ the snakes, but she has to pretend to be afraid of them because there are I.S. members keeping guard continually. But she's in a cell next to Neville…and she says it's hard listening to him…" Padma trailed off, looking forlorn.

Lavender stared at a chipped tile on the toilet floor, feeling a now familiar sense of helplessness. "He'll be okay though, right? How long will they be locked up for?"

Padma shook her head slowly. "They didn't say…probably just to prolong the torture…the not knowing…But Lavender," Padma said more urgently. "We can't tell anyone else about us swapping. Not even the D.A. members. It just reduces the chances of anyone giving anything away and - and it's easier to play the part when people are expecting you to be a certain way."

Lavender thought about how she often found herself acting in a certain way solely due to the weight of other people's expectations. She nodded. "Okay - it'll be just us that know. Come on…we better get going…we'll be late for Divination."

"Okay, but first, I -" Padma turned to the mirror and started to rearrange her hair. "We didn't have time to swap properly. We managed to get Parvati looking more like me than the other way round, that seemed more important," Padma frowned at her reflection. "I know there are things I'm not getting quite right but can't figure out what."

"Maybe I could help with that?" Lavender suggested, feeling confident for once. This was her area of expertise. "Look at me."

Padma turned to Lavender and the Gryffindor scrutinised the Ravenclaw for a few moments. Then, with several swift flicks of her wand, Lavender loosened Padma's tie, made her skirt rise up about two inches from where it'd been at knee level and conjured a gloss charm on her hair. Lavender then dug into her school satchel, pulled out a small sequined bag and from it emptied _Wicked Witches Magical Make-Up_ products over the counter. She helped Padma apply the make-up in Parvati's style and colours.

After several moments, the two girls finally turned and looked in the mirror, surveying Lavender's work.

"Wow, I really look like her," Padma commented in awe.

"Obviously, duh. You're identical twins."

"I know. But I _really_ look like her. I mean, just as pretty."

"Of course you're just as pretty! You just have…different styles, that's all."

Padma gave Lavender a small smile.

"Okay. Right. Well, come on bestie," Lavender took Padma's arm and started to lead her out of the room. "Let's _do_ this!"

"Hang on," Padma halted and swished her wand over her left leg. A small hole formed in her tights. "Parvati nearly always gets a ladder in the tights at his point in the day."

"Yes, that's right, she does, doesn't she? Nice touch," Lavender approved.

The two finally left the toilets and headed towards the Divination Tower.

"Loosen up a bit. You're holding yourself really tightly," Lavender whispered to Padma as they reached the towers stairs.

Padma instantly put her shoulders back, flicked hair back and walked with more swagger.

"That's better. That's _good_ ," Lavender approved, impressed and a little disconcerted at how very convincing Padma was at imitating her twin.

* * *

"Lavender, why does Theodore Nott keep staring at me?" Padma-who-was-pretending-to-be-Parvati murmured as the two sat in the courtyard after Divination had finished and before the start of dinner.

Lavender followed Padma's gaze to where Nott was sitting across the courtyard, leaning against a wall as Daphne Greengrass murmured urgently in his ear. His eyes did, indeed, keep drifting to Padma.

"Oh, he does that a lot," Lavender replied casually. "Stare at Parvati, that is."

"Really?"

"Yep, for weeks now - I've asked Parvati loads what that's about, but she just dismisses me, says he doesn't look at her. But he _does_ , doesn't he?" Lavender said, feeling vindicated.

"Yep. I noticed it in Charms too."

"What d'you think it's about? Has she ever mentioned him to you?"

"No, but she did say to me, when we swapped - she said to stay away from him -"

"Oh, hold up," Lavender interrupted. "Ice-Queen-Green looks like she's melting. Wonder what Niffler's got into her knickers?" Daphne had gotten increasingly agitated, frowning anxiously at Nott and gesticulating wildly. As the girls watched, Nott reached out and clasped both of Daphne's arms, stilling her and leaning towards her, whispering earnestly. He then seemed to steer her around the corner and out of sight of Lavender and Padma.

Lavender glanced at Padma who had gone quiet; her gaze was locked on the place where Nott and Daphne had been standing. Her whole body seemed to have tensed up, her hands balled so tightly into fists that her knuckles were going white.

"Are you okay, Pads?" Lavender asked. Padma's head jerked towards her.

"Yes, fine," Padma said dismissively.

There was an awkward silence. Lavender scrambled around in her mind for something to say. She never really talked to Padma, only when Parvati had somehow forced them together, and even then it had been awkward. Lavender clung to her default topic: Gossip. Or boys. Preferably, both.

"So…you hang around with Anthony quite a bit…is he _more_ than a friend?" Lavender asked conspiratorially.

Padma raised her eyes, apparently unimpressed with Lavender's choice of subject. "No," Padma said. "He's a good friend but he's…not my type."

"Oh. What about Michael or Terry?"

Padma gave Lavender a weary look. "No, Lav. They're not my type either. They're more each _other's_ type, if you know what I mean."

"Oh," Lavender replied, and then understanding dawned. " _Oh_. They're gay?"

"Yes."

" What - with each other?!"

"If only - they keep dancing round each other. It's quite painful to be around. Terry's been comfortable with his sexuality for ages, then he started to like Michael. But Michael's had… _issues_ …"

"He was with Ginny, and then didn't he re-bound with Cho?"

Padma nodded. "I think he was trying to work things out for a while, or else was in complete denial - trying to play the alpha male - trying to compensate or repress or something…so then Terry and him kind of got together and then I think Michael freaked out and broke it off, and then they started taking that stupid drug and now who _knows_ what they're doing - but I shouldn't be telling you this." Padma interrupted herself.

"That's okay - I won't tell anyone," Lavender reassured. Well, maybe she would tell Parvati, but she knew Parvati wouldn't tell anyone. And then maybe Seamus, but Seamus was good friends with Michael and probably knew anyway… "So, what about you?" Lavender returned to familiar territory. "What about the _Hufflepuff_ boys - any of them take your fancy?"

Padma sighed exasperatedly. "No, Lavender. _No_ boys take my fancy. No boy ever has, or ever will."

The significance of Padma's words dropped like a coin in a well, albeit taking it's time to reach the bottom. "Oh. Oooooh. Right. I see. I didn't know," she finished, somewhat unnecessarily. "Does Parvati know?"

"Of course she does. She doesn't tell you everything, you know."

No. No she doesn't, Lavender thought, and tried to ignore the rippling of insecurity this caused. "So...any _girls_ you like then?"

Padma looked away from her, back at the spot where Nott and Daphne had been standing. "Maybe...there's one...but…it's complicated…really complicated."

Lavender was quiet at this - she may be nosy but she knew when she'd be overstepping the mark. She thought back over the revelatory news she'd heard in the last few minutes.

"Is _everyone_ gay and I don't know about it!?" she couldn't help but burst out indignantly.

Padma smiled in amusement. "I don't think so."

"But knowing this stuff is the only thing I'm good at!"

"I don't think that's true," Padma said in that serene voice that sounded too much like Luna's. Too much like Luna's because it was hard to think of the missing D.A. member. "I think there are probably a lot of things you're good at, Lav."

And Lavender was reminded of what Seamus had said earlier that day in the disused broom shed and allowed herself to believe Padma's words. Just a little bit.

* * *

"Are those some form of runes?" Lavender asked Padma, peering at the book she was reading. The two were sitting at the Gryffindor table, waiting for their dinner to appear.

"Not quite, no. It's Sanskrit. The ancient Hindu witches had some excellent healing charms."

"Ah," Lavender said agreeably. But seconds later, she abruptly snatched the book from Padma's grasp. Padma looked at her, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Parvati wouldn't read like this in her free time. Well, she hardly ever would. And in lessons, you need to be less..." Lavender struggled, and failed, to find the right words. " _Hermione_ ," was the best she could do.

Padma's serious face broke into an amused smile. "Okay. I didn't realise - " but Padma stopped, because Seamus, Hannah and Ginny had approached them, all three wearing anxious frowns.

"So, we heard about Neville and Padma…and the _Fear_ ," Ginny said, sitting down at the table. She looked around furtively, then leaned towards Padma. "Have you _spoken_ to her, Par?"

"Yeah…she's alright…but she's not so sure about Neville…" Padma replied gravely.

"We've got to get them out," Seamus said, bobbing on the balls of his feet restlessly.

"Get them out?" Padma asked uncertainly.

"Yes! We can't leave them there and not do anything!" Seamus exclaimed.

"But - they're being watched by I.S. members - they're on a shift rotation, watching them all through the night."

"I do worry about Padma - I think the Carrows have had it in for her since the Book Burning," Hannah said grimly. "They've always seen her as a bit of a ring leader since then."

Padma scoffed. "She's not a ringleader," she said scathingly. "She just couldn't bear to see the burning of books. It was stupid really, what she did that night. Reckless."

Lavender knew this wasn't how Parvati would normally speak about her sister. Padma clearly had a lower opinion of herself than her twin did. Lavender spoke before Padma blew her cover. "No, what she did was courageous and fearless. You said so yourself." Lavender looked pointedly at Padma as she spoke.

"Oh yeah…I did," Padma said hesitantly.

"She was really brave. We should make her an honorary Gryffindor," Seamus declared.

"Yeah," Ginny agreed emphatically.

Lavender could see Padma trying to hide her surprise, could see her cheeks darkening with a blush, just the way Parvati's did.

"That's sweet of you two," she said. "I'm sure she would have taken you up on that in her first year just so we could be together. But I think Padma's Ravenclaw through and through now. And…not everyone needs the accolade of 'brave' to make them feel whole."

There was a comfortable silence at this. All of them understood the strength of house loyalty.

"Well, brave or not, she's our friend," Seamus said impatiently. "So what's the plan? To get them out?"

"I think they'll be okay. Like I said, Padma's told me she's alright. And I'm sure Neville's stronger than we sometimes think. If it gets too much, I'll let you know and we can think of something then. And if we break them out, they'll only put them in again with worse and go after the people that did it and it will be this endless cycle of rebellion and punishment."

"Sounds like our whole seventh year so far," Ginny said dryly, to chuckles from the group. "But yeah…that sounds like as good a plan as any."

"I'll let you know if things change," then Padma hesitated as if not sure whether to say the next words. "She'd be touched by your support though."

"Of course," Ginny said dismissively, as though it was obvious.

It was only Lavender that noticed subtle watering of Padma's eyes.

* * *

 **Theo**

Theo had never been more reluctant to carry out an I.S. duty in his life. It was four in the morning and he was exhausted, his mind addled from an intense Occlumency session with Draco.

He could smell the fear before he'd even finished descending the stairs to the dungeons. Fear, with an undercurrent of damp and stale sweat, engulfed his nostrils as he turned at the bottom of the steps and made his way down the narrow passageway to where the cells were. Surreally, he heard an outburst of laughter and, with rising apprehension, recognised it as the mad cackle of Bellatrix Lestrange.

He'd been down here before but this was the first time he was supervising this particular punishment. Daphne had anxiously told him about it after classes had finished earlier that day: " _Padma's_ down there, Theo! With her worst fear - she _hates_ snakes, hates them! I've tried to swap with someone on duty, but the Carrows wouldn't allow it - will you make sure she's okay Theo? Will you help her if she needs?" And Theo, seeing the desperateness in Daphne's eyes, had had no choice but to say yes.

As Theo reached the corridor lined with cells, he saw Pansy was lying on a bench pushed up by the side of the wall, tapping her wand on her knee restlessly.

"Oh, thank Merlin," she declared when she saw Theo had come to relieve her, jumping to her feet. "It was entertaining at first but got boring pretty quickly. The Carrows have their wands," Pansy started explaining, gesturing to the two occupied cells. "This one just sits in the corner, staring. I think that's what they call the 'freeze' response. Every now and again a snake will slide over her and she'll let out a pathetic little scream. None of them are truly dangerous of course, they've all been de-venomed, but I suppose that doesn't matter when you're truly terrified of them."

Theo peered through the gloom into the cell Pansy was talking about. Padma Patil sat in the corner, her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms tightly wrapped around her legs, staring blankly out at a mass of snakes of various kinds that had managed to slither over every inch of her cell, gliding slowly over each other, their tongues occasionally darting out and in again.

"And this one," Pansy continued, gesturing to the other cell. "Longbottom - he just won't shut up. Keeps making this annoying kind of groaning noise, or chanting, or something."

Theo peered into Longbottom's cell. Bellatrix Lestrange stood over a man and woman who were lying flat on the floor, brandishing her wand and casting Crucio after Crucio. The unnamed woman occasionally let out an ear-piercing scream; the man's eyes were wide open, unseeing but still with light in them. He appeared to be singing a nursery rhyme quietly to himself; it seemed his mind was starting to fracture and break. It was uncannily real and Theo's stomach knotted as he watched it. He looked at the cupboard in the corner of the cell, actively reminding himself that this was just a Boggart. Longbottom stood in the corner of the cell with his back to the scene, rocking back a forth, seeming to chant something to himself over and over again.

"I would silence him, but occasionally he cries out something absurd which is quite entertaining." Pansy said, her lips curling up into a malicious smile. "Well, toodle-pip." She waved her wand casually in goodbye and turned to make her way down the passage to the stairs.

Theo nodded in acknowledgment. When he was sure Pansy was well and truly away, he went to the bars of Padma's cell, thinking of his promise to Daphne. To his surprise, at the same time, Padma stood up and delicately walked through the carpet of snakes towards him, looking oddly comfortable in their company. Maybe she'd gone into some kind of shock, or shut-down, he thought.

"Theo?" Padma said, as she stepped over a particularly fat cobra. Merlin, she sounded so much like her twin. Something clenched at his heart. And why in Salazar's name was she calling him 'Theo'? "Theo," Padma said again once she'd reached the bars of the cell, her fingers clasping around them. "It's me, Parvati."

His heart was suddenly somewhere in his throat, his thoughts whirring, recalibrating, understanding. But not fast enough for his mouth, "What?" he asked accusingly.

Padma leaned as close to the bars as possible. "Smell me," she said softly. So Theo did, leaning in towards her neck and inhaling deeply. Through the thick scent of fear and dead snake skin, he caught the waft of jasmine, lavender - and there - the sweetness of pumpkin juice. Parvati.

He immediately unlocked the door and Parvati moved backwards to accommodate his entrance. He cupped her head in his hands, tilting it so she was looking up at him and he could take all of her in. Through the gloom, he saw her hair was tied in one long, loose and messy plait, her face raw and natural, with no make-up for once. Instead, it was streaked with dirt and there were dark circles under her eyes. It was unlikely she would have gotten any sleep, of course, not with the noises from the adjacent cell.

"You swapped," he concluded. "Because your fear is mummies." He remembered, of course he did, he'd been watching attentively whilst she took her turn during that lesson on Boggarts. "So you can handle this? You're okay?"

His hands stroked down her cheek and smoothed down her hair - clumsy, useless gestures - but he couldn't help it. He wanted to take the frown from her face, the dark circles from under her eyes, wanted to see her smile again.

Parvati nodded. "I'm fine. I quite like a Snake, you know." And then she did smile, clearly wanting him to share the joke, but the smile didn't reach her eyes, so he didn't reciprocate it. She reached up and ran her thumb over his bottom lip. "But Neville's not, Theo. I've been sitting here listening to him for hours and it's nearly as torturous as if there was a bloody mummy in here. Will you help him Theo? Please?"

Theo hesitated, even though he already knew what his reply would be. He'd been trying his best to keep those he cared about to a minimum, because the less you care, the less chance you have of being hurt. But caring about Parvati meant caring about those she held dear. Which, he was starting to realise, was a lot of bloody people.

"Sure," he mumbled, releasing her and hastily going to the neighbouring cell and unlocking it's door.

As he entered, the three Boggart-figures morphed and distorted and Bellatrix's frame became that of a tall, stooped Death Eater but one with wild black hair. The Boggart was clearly confused by the two humans now in close proximity to it.

"Riddikulus!" Theo cried, and the figures whirled and swirled into ethereal light which whooshed away into the cupboard. The constant cries of Bellatrix and the yells and mad murmurings from the man and woman on the floor finally ceased. The only sound now seemed to be Longbottom's chanting: "I'm okay, I'm okay, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter..."

Theo stood for some moments, not sure what to do, not sure whether to approach Longbottom or whether that would set off some kind of terror-turn or worse. The air felt fragile, volatile. But he didn't have to think for much longer, because Longbottom's monotonous chants suddenly ceased and he peered furtively over his shoulder, his eyes flickering around the cell and finally settling on Theo. Longbottom slowly turned around and squared his shoulders, his gaze guarded and wary.

Theo really didn't want to do what he was planning to do next but he was convinced it was the most prudent, safest thing. He strode towards Longbottom and thrust out his wand as the boy cowered back against the damp walls. Longbottom must have recognised that Theo's wand was pointed at the specific spot on a person's forehead that was needed to perform a precise Obliviate.

"Please, please don't mess with my memories!" Longbottom pleaded, eyes wide. "I won't tell anyone - I won't tell anyone what happened, just don't fuck with my mind!"

The plea was desperate and intense. Theo's thoughts shifted and understanding dawned: Longbottom's worst fear wasn't the inhuman cruelty of Bellatrix Lestrange. Nor was it the intolerable pain the Cruciatus Curse could render. Longbottom's worst fear was _insanity_. It was people messing with his mind to such a degree that they'd fracture it irrevocably. And right then, Theo was Longbottom's real life Boggart. Something he really didn't want to be.

Theo lowered his wand, then held it with less conviction to the boys chest.

"Longbottom," he said, his voice low and hard. "If you ever, _ever_ tell anyone about this I will _cut_ you worse than that mark you got on your hand. _Do you understand_?"

Longbottom frowned, exhaustion and confusion etched in the lines of his forehead. "But what you just did - that was kind, that was good!"

"Longbottom. I have a reputation. And it's best for both of us I maintain it."

"Okay. Fine," Longbottom said uncertainly, clearly bewildered by Theo's behaviour.

"We keep this between us - no blabbing. Deal?" Theo lowered his wand.

"Deal."

"I'll have to let the Boggart out again when I finish my shift. Try and…sleep or something…" Theo suggested weakly.

"Sure…"

As Theo went to leave the cell, Longbottom slid down the wall onto the floor, his elbows resting on his raised knees, head in hands.

"Is he okay?" Parvati asked anxiously as Theo re-entered her cell, casting a Muffliato around them so Longbottom couldn't hear their conversation.

Theo shrugged. "He will be. He'll get a break from the Boggart for a few hours, it should help him -" but he was cut off by Parvati lunging towards him and pushing her lips onto his. He pressed back hard, reaching up to embrace her, but she pulled away abruptly - too quickly.

"Thank you. Thank you," she said in between peppering his face with gentle kisses. She ran her fingers through his hair, gathering a bunch of it in her fist whilst her other hand stroked around to caress the nape of his neck. He reached out and wrapped his arms around her waist, trying to squash the guilt and embarrassment he felt at how grateful she was to him for doing this thing that really shouldn't have had to have been done at all. Because neither she nor Longbottom should be in this horrendous fucking situation in the first place.

Then he felt it - he could sense they both did: an icy chill blowing down the corridor outside, sweeping into the cell, as if enveloping them in a blanket of frost. Theo rarely felt the cold because his wolf blood maintained his body temperature unusually high. But this - this set off goose bumps all over his skin, this seeped through him, tensing his muscles and making his blood feel like ice in his veins. There was only one thing that caused this, and Theo could tell by the look of alarm on Parvati's face that she knew this too.

They both hurried out the cell, turning to look down the passage, Theo's wand arm tensed by his side, as the dark, hooded, figure of a Dementor came into view several meters down the passage. They'd all known that it wouldn't have been long until there was one in the castle. And of course it would head straight down here, attracted by the fear and despair that emanated from these cells.

The lid of the cauldron that Theo kept pressed down deep inside him burst off and he was unprepared for the flood of misery, desolation and hopelessness that spilled from it, coursing through his body and mind and dulling his senses.

"Theo - Theo, I don't have a wand - you need to - " Parvati was saying, although her voice sounded muffled.

She didn't know he couldn't cast a Patronus, did she? And some absurd feeling of pride meant that instead of telling her, he raised his wand, summoning the memory of Daphne's mischievous grin as she poured firewhiskey into her hot chocolate, of Luna's calm blue eyes and accepting gaze, as he cried: "Expecto Patronum!"

Bright white light emanated from Theo's wand tip. A sheet of it shimmered about half a meter away and the Dementor halted. But then Theo was thinking of the desperateness in Daphne's voice from earlier that day and of Luna in the dark and cold of the Malfoy cellar and the white light died. The Dementor continued it's seemingly relentless progression towards them, only meters away now.

So he tried again, summoning memories of Daphne and of Luna, but others too - of a women's warm embrace as a seven year old Theo sat snuggled in her lap, her soft voice reading Babbity Rabbity to him, her kind smile and the feel of her tender kiss on his forehead as she tucked him into bed. And words, words that he never normally allowed himself to remember, because as much as they brought him happiness, they brought him pain too: "I'll always love you Theo, remember that. Remember - I'll never truly leave you."

"Expecto Patronum!" Theo cried again and this time the blast of white light almost blinded him, and it travelled further this time. The Dementor was pushed backwards by it but Theo was thinking of the same woman - now with dead eyes - of an empty mansion with the ghost of his mother marring every room, and the white light shrank and dwindled into nothing again.

"Theo - let me - let me Theo - give me your wand," he heard Parvati saying by his side, but an absurd, stubborn part of him raised his wand again. The Dementor was nearly on them now, and it took all of Theo's strength to break through the blanket of despair that threatened to suffocate him.

He conjured up Daphne's mischievous grin and Luna's calm eyes and his mothers soft words and then Parvati was reaching her hand out, clasping his, leaning towards him, and he was breathing in her scent and thinking of her knowing smile and the deep brown of her eyes, of her passionate embraces and warm touch. But above all he was thinking of how this girl, who was good and kind and brave, seemed to see through the darkness of him to something worth wanting underneath it all.

"Expecto Patronum!" he cried again.

White light burst from his wand again but he felt the overwhelming power of it this time. The Dementor was blasted backwards with the force of it and Theo watched as the light morphed into something else - some kind of animal - four legged and scampering, which ran after the Dementor, chasing it down the passageway and finally banishing it from the dungeons.

Theo instantly felt the despair lift from him, the anguish dissipate and warmth travel back to his bones as his Patronus faded into nothing. He stood gasping, his arms feeling heavy by his side, but exhilarated by the fact that he had conjured this _thing_ : joy made visible, made it into a white light that shimmered and glowed, something ethereal that seemed intangible but was strong enough to protect from the wretchedness of sorrows that could break a person over and over again.

He turned to Parvati, his limbs feeling jelly-like now, knowing his mouth was formed into an uncharacteristic grin, wanting to share his triumph with her. But she was staring, her brow furrowed in puzzlement, at the place where his Patronus had disappeared.

"What was that?" she asked quietly, as if awed.

"It was my - I conjured a Patronus," Theo stated unnecessarily.

"Yes," Parvati replied, as if dazed, still gazing down the passageway. "But what form did it take?"

Theo thought, trying to remember, because he hadn't been focused on his Patronus' form, too distracted had he been with the feat of conjuring a corporeal Patronus at all. "I'm not sure - some kind of dog I think."

"Yes, that's what I thought," Parvati said, finally wrenching her eyes from the passageway, and looking up at him. "What kind of dog?"

"I'm not sure - I'm not good with dog breeds - one of those ones with big floppy ears. A spaniel?" he suggested doubtfully.

Parvati nodded slowly and her face broke into a melancholic smile, as if she was understanding something, Something that Theo didn't. "Well - well done," she said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him towards her in a hug.

"Thanks," was all he could think to say.

Then Parvati pulled back, tilting her head at him coyly, her hand travelling down his chest. "I think I owe you for this."

Heat flooded Theo's body as he thought of the possibilities that existed behind Parvati's statement, but then he saw again her eyes rimmed with red and the dirt streaked across her face, and felt a snake sliver over his feet.

"Don't be stupid, you're exhausted," he said softly. "You should try and get some sleep while I'm here."

Parvati didn't object as he warded the snakes into a corner of the cell and guided her to sit down with him against the wall, conjuring a blanket to cover them both. His wolf senses would alert him to anyone coming down the dungeons stairs unexpectedly. He put his arm around Parvati's shoulder, and she nuzzled into him, laying an arm across his stomach and squeezing him tightly. He willed the heat of him to warm her quickly and it wasn't long before her arm went slack, her head lose and he heard her breathing, deep and regular.

And despite the damp and the dirt and the smell of dead snake skin that pervaded the cell, part of Theo wished they could stay that way forever.

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The last section of was one of my favourite parts to write!

Thanks to my beta Rachael.

As always, your favs/follows/reviews/thoughts are so very much loved.


	39. Humiliation

**A/N: **

This chapter is my little shout out to friendship - such an important theme in the HP books, but often overlooked in fanfiction in favour of romantic pairings.

Warning: references/discussion of sexual assault and PTSD symptoms. Also, strong hints at sexual humiliation.

* * *

 **Ch. 39 Humiliation**

 _"Books and cleverness, there are more important things - friendship and bravery."'_

\- Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.

 **Lavender**

Neville and Parvati were kept in the dungeons for forty eight hours; two long days and nights.

Neville had changed when he came out. But not in the way one would expect. He trembled uncontrollably and kept jumping involuntarily for three days afterwards. Professor Sprout wouldn't let him near the gardening shears after he kept accidentally nicking himself with them and dripping blood all over the greenhouse benches.

But the tremors gradually subsided and when they did, Neville seemed more focused, more self-assured, more determined. Maybe knowing you'd faced your worst fear and survived it actually gave one strength rather than broke them, Lavender thought, gaining satisfaction from the fact that the Carrows' new toy had appeared to fail them, in this respect at least.

The D.A. ran their first Muggle Studies lesson towards the end of February. They had a full class of mostly younger students. Padma taught it, accompanied every now and then by a half-blood amongst the DA, who would tell the class of the occupations and interests of their Muggle parent. "It helps to _humanise_ them," Padma had urged. "Muggles are being so dehumanised by the Ministry's propaganda, you see."

The days grew milder and the nights shorter as the weeks folded into March. They noticed five more students vanish from the school, as Marietta had done. But unlike Marietta, it remained unknown whether their disappearances were a good thing or not. The teachers did not acknowledge these missing students - their empty seats and untouched beds seemed to be the only sign that they'd been there at all. Three had gone into Hogsmeade and never came back. The other two had, more ominously, disappeared from the school after they had been called up to see the Carrows.

D.A. members started turning up at the Room of Requirement at all hours, seeking comfort in the quiet and the soft light, and ultimately the _safety_ of the room; the only space in the whole castle they could hide from an I.S. member looking for someone to punish, from the cruelty of Alecto or the wrath of Amycus.

In a school where people had stopped trusting their own dorm-mates, it was also a space where they felt they could converse freely, without fear of eavesdropping or interruption. Speculation abounded about what was happening on the outside. Ignorance spurred doubt which fed fear. The most contentious issue was Harry Potter because they all knew by now - even though nothing had been explicitly said - they all knew that it was Harry who had to end this somehow. Yes, maybe they would all have their part to play, but it wouldn't end without Harry . _Do we really know he's even still alive?_ They would whisper. _Of course he is, otherwise You-Know-Who would have free reign! Then what's he_ doing _? Is he still fighting? Or just hiding?_

If the discussion ever got too heated, Neville would always step in, definitive and defiant: "He's still alive and of course he's still fighting! And he'll come back, he'll come back to fight with _us_!"

Lavender didn't know what possessed him to have such conviction. Maybe Trelawney's prophecy, but it seemed more than that: blind loyalty and faith - Neville seemed to epitomise these traits when it came to Harry.

They clung to Potterwatch like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood, it being the only reliable source of news. It often brought pain in its reporting of magical murder and Muggle massacres. But it brought relief too, in recognising the voices that boomed out at them from the radios speakers, in what _wasn't_ said - in the lack of mention of the Boy-Who-Lived nor any of their fugitive friends. _No news was good news_ , they mumbled to themselves.

* * *

On the fifteenth of March, Parvati's birthday, Lavender found herself curled up in bed sobbing. She had just been with Seamus, in the old broom shed again, during a free period they had at the end of the day. Since the day he'd offered her Somnium Beatus, they had continued to meet there, stealing kisses from each other as they cuddled on the oversized cushions. But every time Seamus tried to touch her intimately, Lavender would freeze. She'd tried so hard this time not to but had nearly had a terror-turn again and found herself running from the shed to the comfort of her bed, where the tears had started and not stopped. About twenty minutes had passed before the door of her dorm opened.

Parvati halted momentarily as she entered the room, seeming to take in Lavender in her bed, her blood shot eyes and her damp cheeks, before hurrying towards her.

"Oh Lav, what's wrong?" Parvati dumped her school bag on Lavender's bed, pulled back the covers and crawled in beside her, enveloping her in her arms.

"I - I was just with Seamus and - and I nearly had a bloody terror-turn again," Lavender hiccupped a sob. "What if Flint's ruined it, Pav? What if I can never be with anyone else?"

Parvati squeezed Lavender to her reassuringly and gave her a thoughtful look, as if she were deciding something.

"Lav...Lav, I've been reading about Mind Healing and trauma..."

"I've been your next project after lycanthropy?" Lavender asked wryly.

She felt Parvati tense. "I suppose so, yes. And...and I've been talking to Padma about it...and well, apparently what happens when we experience a traumatic event is that our minds and bodies go into survival mode and that means we don't process what's going on in the normal way. Because the event is so awful, we shut down or switch off - it's called dissociation - it means people sometimes remember the event as if they're looking down on themselves from above -"

"That - that happened to me!" Lavender exclaimed, relieved that her strange out-of-body experience wasn't something bizarre and weird that had only happened to her.

"Yeah. And then, because we don't process the event normally, it gets stored in the wrong kind of way in our mind. And even though we might try not to remember it, it can jump out at us when our defenses go down. Like when we're sleeping in the form of nightmares. Or it can jump out when anything reminds us of the event - like a sound or - or touch."

"Right..." Lavender murmured, beginning to understand the reasons for the intrusive, frightening memories she had started to dread.

"It's a bit like, you know my mum's laundry cupboards so messy? Because she never folds the sheets properly and doesn't store them in an organised way? So every time you open the door, all the linen falls out on you."

"So my memories are like the bed sheets?"

"Yep. And when a memory jumps out, it's not like a _normal_ memory, but it's as if the mind thinks it's still in that moment, it can't _tell_ it's a memory. And we experience the same feelings, usually terror, we felt at the time, as if it's still happening. They call them 'flashbacks'. And the whole thing can lead to a terror-turn."

"Oh. So...so how can we make the sheets not fall out at us and stay in the cupboard?" Lavender asked, wiping at her damp cheeks.

"We have to open the cupboard up, take everything out, fold up all the sheets neatly, and put them back again."

Lavender paused. "I'm not gonna lie Pav, but I've got lost in the metaphor," she admitted sardonically.

Pav smiled gently and stroked Lavender arm. The feel of it felt good. Comforting.

"We need to let your memories out. Talk them through, face them, tell your story knowing that you're safe now, knowing that they're in the past. It will help process them like any other memory. You'll still have them but when you remember what happened, they'll feel like a normal memory rather than as if it's still happening."

"Talk them through? I - I don't know if I can - if I can tell you it all. Every time I think about it, it just - it terrifies me, Pav."

"But I'm here Lav. I'll be here, I can bring you back. I have before," Parvati reassured.

So Lavender told Parvati what happened, from the time she got separated from Seamus: of how Flint disarmed her, of being tied to the tree, she even managed to tell her of when he invaded her - although that part was hard, and she started to feel like she was hyperventilating. But Pav was there, with a warm arm around her shoulders and her soft voice repeating soothing phrases: "It's okay Lav, you're safe…you're safe now…it's March now and that was January…"

"Then...then he said something...something I just can't -" Lavender faltered. It wasn't so much fear that stopped her saying the words, but another emotion: shame.

"What was it, hon? What did he say?"

"He said 'this little lioness is wet for me'. But - it wasn't because of him, I - I'd just been with Seamus - but he made it sound like I - like it was him and I wanted it and -"

"And ashamed and humiliated? Sexual assault and rape aren't about _sex_ Lav. They're not a sexual acts, they're _violent_ acts. They're about control and power and humiliation," Parvati tone became firmer as she spoke, as if the more she enunciated her words, the more Lavender would be convinced of them. "Whether you'd been with Seamus or not, however your body responded, _none_ of what happened was your fault and you were not complicit in it in any way. There's no reason you should feel ashamed - he's a perpetrator and _he's_ the one in the wrong."

Something changed in Lavender, like a heaviness that had been weighing on her heart shifted slightly.

"Even if you hadn't been with Seamus beforehand, that kind of thing might have happened anyway," Parvati continued. "It's sometimes our bodies' natural response to that kind of situation. It's not uncommon apparently."

"Really?"

"Really," Parvati confirmed.

And so Lavender continued to tell Parvati the story of what happened that January night, until she'd gotten back to Gryffindor tower, until she'd felt safe again. And then Lavender told her again. And again. And each time she told the story, the memories seemed less terrifying, less shameful and less like the event was happening to her all over again. Until finally she could think of what happened without feeling terrified. The memories were still painful and still distressing, but most importantly, they felt like _memories_. What had happened with Flint finally felt like something that had been and gone.

"Thank you. Thanks Par," Lavender said after she'd finished telling the story for a third time. She felt exhausted but relieved. "You're an awesome friend, you know that?"

Parvati hugged her closer.

"Hmm, not really," Parvati said gravely. "I should have been with you. I'm so sorry I wasn't there. I fucking hate myself for not being there."

"Don't be silly. It was chaos, we were all running in different directions, and you got lost for hours, didn't you? It must have been pretty scary - getting lost in the dark and cold for that long."

"Yeah...I got a bit lost in the darkness..." Parvati mumbled into Lavender's shoulder.

Lavender and Parvati sat in thoughtful silence for a few minutes, their gazes falling to the bed opposite, which had remained un-slept in since the start of the school year, the initials 'H.G.' painted onto the wooden board at the foot of the bed. It was a constant reminder of their missing roommate.

During those first few weeks of their Hogwarts life, Lavender had half-heartedly tried to befriend Hermione but Lavender just, well, hadn't _got_ the odd Muggle-born. The girl's relentless attempts at conversation based on books that Lavender had never heard of, let alone read, had all felt rather intense. Lavender just didn't understand it - life wasn't meant to be lived in books. Parvati's interest in fashion and tendency to gossip as fervently as Lavender did had been so much…easier. They had fit together.

As the months had gone on, if Lavender were being truly honest with herself, she had probably become intimidated by and envious of Hermione's seemingly natural gift for magic and bottomless knowledge. Now, Lavender remembered with shame how she had lashed out at Hermione with a cutting remark or a mimic. She hadn't meant to be cruel, it had been her immature way of trying to communicate to Hermione that books and cleverness weren't the most important things.

Which was ironic really, because Lavender realised later that Hermione knew more than any of them that there was more to life than books and cleverness - her loyalty, bravery and fighting for what she believed in became more apparent as the years went on. Hermione had become more likeable over the years, but by then she had settled into a solid friendship with Harry and Ron, and Lavender with Parvati, and the three Gryffindor girls had seemed to plod along quite nicely. Until last year, of course, and the Ron saga, the memories of which still filled Lavender with a rush of embarrassment, whilst at the same time seeming ridiculously trivial.

"Where do you think she is?" Lavender asked thoughtfully as she and Parvati stared at Hermione's made-up bed.

Parvati shrugged in answer. "I hope they're together. Her, Ron and Harry. I don't know why but I feel that, if they stick together they'll be okay, you know?" The D.A. members had long speculated that Ron was likely to be with Harry and Hermione, rather than still at home with Spattergroit.

"Yeah," Lavender agreed. Lavender remembered the trio as they had sat whispering together during classes or strolled through the hallways as if they owned the school. The three of them had shone, in their defeat of mountain trolls and dark wizards, yes, but also in their unwavering loyalty to each other, how they had seemed to form bonds of friendship so strong that others felt permanently on the outside of them.

But Lavender was grateful, so grateful, that she was lucky enough to have that kind of friendship with Parvati.

Lavender's gaze fell to Parvati's school bag which she had dumped on her bed earlier and the contents that had spilled across her covers. Lavender reached out, intrigued, clasping one of the objects in her hand.

"A chocolate frog?" Lavender queried, amused. "Is this a birthday present to yourself Pav?"

Lavender saw Parvati's eyes widen slightly and a blush darken her cheeks. "No - no - I didn't know it was in my bag. Someone must have sneaked it in there."

Lavender smiled. She loved a mystery like this. "A secret bequest! Oh, there's a note stuck to it!" She tore a small piece of parchment off it at the same time as Parvati was exclaimed:

"No Lavender, don't!"

But Lavender had already unfolded the missive. "'Happy feckin birthday' - that's all it says." she read, confused. "'Fecking' - Seamus says that?..." Lavender said, her voice suddenly small, insecurity bubbling up in her. Was Seamus giving Parvati secret birthday presents? She looked at Parvati questioningly.

"It's not from Seamus, don't be silly," Parvati said gently.

And no, now Lavender looked more closely at the note, it really wasn't Seamus' handwriting. "So who's it from, Pav? Do you know?"

Parvati gently took the parchment from Lavender's hands and read it. The corners of her lips curled up into the small smile. Then she looked up at Lavender, her expression thoughtful and serious. She sighed resignedly.

"Lav - do you remember that detention I had, back in autumn term? When I stole the dittany?"

"Yes…" Lavender replied, puzzled.

"Well, _I_ didn't actually steal it, you see…." And Lavender listened, dumbstruck and silent, as Parvati told her about Theodore Nott. About the game of truth or dare, about how the real reason for Nott coming to sit at the Gryffindor breakfast table was to drop dittany into her lap, about how Parvati had really got the password for Snape's office, and the Death Eater information, about where she had gone after the forest party and how Nott had hidden her from the I.S. the night of the graffiti mission and - finally - about how he had helped Neville in the dungeons.

"So - what - I can't even - I knew something was going on but - I can't believe you didn't tell me any of this!" was the first coherent thing Lavender could think to say after Parvati had finished. Because being Parvati's confidante was something she prided herself on - a sign she was truly worthwhile - a real friend.

"It's - it's not safe for him. He'll be called a traitor and probably punished more severely than we would ever be," Parvati explained. "It's not that I don't trust you - and I've _so_ wanted to tell you - Merlin Lav, you have no idea how much I've needed to talk to you about all this!"

It was Lavender's turn to draw Parvati to her in a hug. "Are you sure Pav - are you sure this is safe? You - you trust him?"

Parvati paused, thinking. "Yes. Yes, trust him. And I've fallen for him Lav. Fallen so hard I don't think I can get up again. And even if I could, I'm not sure I'd want to..."

* * *

"Imperio!" Marcus Flint flourished his wand towards Parvati, his mouth set in a determined line,

The tension in Parvati's shoulders slackened and her face became neutral and blank. Her eyes, which normally sparkled with curiosity and humour were now empty, staring out at the class as if unseeing. Those who knew Parvati well and could see this profound change in her shifted uncomfortably. This was a powerful Imperius Curse.

It was a Dark Arts lesson the day after Parvati had turned eighteen and Amycus had been ordering them to practice the Imperius Curse on each other. Due to the inexperience of the class, most people had barely managed it. Nearly all casters had only been able to manipulate their subjects with the simplest of actions - raising an arm, turning on the spot - and only for a minute or so before the victim had fought through the fog of the curse and regained their autonomy.

Now Flint and Parvati were at the front of the class and it was clear to Lavender that Flint's curse was powerful and sophisticated; that he had been practicing it. Lavender started to feel the now familiar bubbling of anxiety, which was made worse by the fact that she couldn't speak or move from the neck down. Amycus had taken to silencing and immobilising all those he considered 'troublemakers' whilst they observed others' practice. Which effectively meant most of the class except a few chosen I.S. members.

For several minutes, Flint gave Parvati some ubiquitous commands, such as walking back and forth along the front of the classroom. She did as she was bid without hesitation. She was totally under his control. Lavender looked desperately down at her wand which lay on the desk in front of her. It mocked her with its close proximately because, despite it being in arms reach, she couldn't bloody touch it.

"Get on your knees and crawl towards me," Flint commanded Parvati, his lips curling up into a malicious smile.

Parvati, who was standing several metres from Flint, unhesitatingly dropped to her hands and knees and started crawling towards him. It was beyond humiliating. Lavender was sat at the front of the class, close enough to see the glint of spite in Flint's eyes.

Flint made no command to stop Parvati, and so she only came to a halt when she reached him, her head barely an inch from his crotch. He started moving his hips back and forth in subtle but noticeable thrusting movements. There were whispers and sniggers from some in the room - Crabbe and Goyle no doubt - and Flint looked over at them and grinned as he thrust his pelvis repeatedly in Parvati's face, as if sharing in their joke.

Lavender didn't have to hear what they were saying to have a good idea what comments they were making. She blushed on behalf of her friend and her insides recoiled in secondary humiliation. She glanced over at Seamus and Neville, who both looked like they were fighting with their own fury, Neville red faced, Seamus' jaw clenching tightly. Then her eyes flickered to Amycus, who was standing by his desk, his lips slightly parted and eyes glazed as if he were entranced by the whole thing.

Flint then shoved his wand under Parvati's chin and tilted her face up so she was looking at him. "Smile for me, kitten," he demanded, his voice dark and soft. Parvati smiled, a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Get up and face the class," Flint commanded then, his voice louder, harder.

He was in his element. It was sickening. Parvati did as she was told, her face still expressionless, her eyes still empty.

"Take off your jumper," Flint demanded.

A wave of nausea hit Lavender as Parvati's hands reached up and pulled her school jumper over her head. She stood in her shirt holding her jumper in her right hand. There was another sputtering of whispering from the I.S. members.

"Drop it."

Keeping her head and eyes fixed straight ahead, Parvati opened her hand and the jumper fell to the floor.

"Now your tie - take it off."

Parvati promptly did as Flint had ordered: she undid her tie and dropped that to the floor too.

"Now take off your shirt, Patil," Flint said, managing to sound scornful and triumphant at the same time.

A stillness fell over the class. Lavender looked at Amycus again, anxiety and outrage stirring in her - surely even _he_ wouldn't let Flint take this that far, would he? But Lavender's stomach dropped to somewhere near her knees when she saw the expression on Amycus's face - how he looked almost mesmerised at the scene - and she watched in disgust at how he licked his lips as Parvati raised her arms and started unbuttoning her shirt.

* * *

A/N: As ever, your favs/follows/reviews/thoughts are cherished and treasured.

Thanks to my beta Rachael.


	40. Duel

**Ch. 40 Duel**

 _'"Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it."'_

\- Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

 ** **Lavender****

Lavender hadn't thought it would be possible to scream and make no sound, but that's what she seemed to be doing as she watched Parvati unbutton her shirt. She looked again at Seamus and Neville, pleading with her eyes. Pleading for what, she wasn't sure, because she knew they were as helpless as she was.

Some students in the class had turned their heads away from the front of the room and were looking down at their desks or out the window, or even up at the ceiling, in an apparent effort to not be complicit in Parvati's humiliation. But then she noticed Crabbe and Goyle with unabashed leers on their faces staring right at her friend, and Millicent and Pansy looking brazenly at Parvati too, a chilling smile of amusement on the latter's face.

Parvati had just finished undoing her second shirt button when there was a movement from the back of the class and Lavender turned to see Nott sauntering down the aisle to the front. At Amycus' questioning look, he raised his arms in a mock surrender gesture.

"Just moving for a better view, sir," Nott explained, smirking nonchalantly, and the teacher nodded his permission. When Theo reached the front of the class he sat himself down in the empty seat on Lavender's left, which had been Parvati's before she'd been called to partner up with Flint. Lavender glared at him as he did so and made no attempt to hide her raging indignation, her eyes wide and jaw set in righteous anger.

"Don't have a terror-turn, Brown," Theo murmured to her quietly.

He placed his hand on the desk, wand clasped tightly in his fist and turned the point of it to the front of the room. Remembering all that Parvati had told her about him, Lavender's opinion of Theodore Nott was confused - she couldn't tell whether his tone was mocking or an attempt at reassurance. Now he was so close to her, she could sense a tension radiating from him, a rigidity about his muscles and a tightness in the clenching of his jaw, and she couldn't help but wonder whether the casual sauntering had all been for show.

She turned away from him, forcing herself to look at Parvati who was unbuttoning her third button now. It was then that it happened - imperceptibly and quickly - a jet of faint red light flew through the air from her left in the direction of Flint. The light faded before it reached him, but he was suddenly looking confused, as if… _ _yes__ , as if someone had hit him with a Confundus Hex. Most people's eyes had either been fixed on Parvati or looking elsewhere in the room so it seemed that only Lavender had noticed the subtle wisp of red that had emitted from Theo's wand.

Lavender quickly looked askance at the Slytherin next to her, whose eyes remained fixed ahead but whose shoulders seemed to have relaxed. When she turned back to the front she saw, to her relief, that the life was back in Parvati's eyes. Her friend looked down at her shirt in confusion before looking up again, her expression was puzzled and startled. Lavender tried to give her a reassuring smile as a small group of I.S. members gave a mock round of applause, accompanied by jeering and a wolf whistle. Lavender sensed Nott tense beside her again in response to the sounds.

"Right, well Mr Flint, your Imperious lasted longer than your peers, although the curse broke eventually," Amycus praised. Like Marcus, he'd seemed to have come out of his reverie. "A very promising start though, well done."

"But I didn't -" Flint started and then stopped. He looked down at his wand and then back into the front row, his eyes gliding over Lavender and Theo.

"And thank __you__ , Miss Patil," Amycus chuckled sickeningly. "Right, we're out of time today - class over!" And he swept his wand across the room, giving the majority of students back the power of movement and speech.

 ** **Theo****

Theo's protective instinct was still dominant when Amycus called the lesson finished, which gave him enough presence of mind to stay in his seat, waiting for Brown, Longbottom and Finnigan to gather themselves around Parvati. He stayed stock still until he was certain she was okay - assuring himself she had her autonomy back and her friends were looking after her.

Once he felt confident of this, a rage rose in him like Fiendfyre. The full moon was still two days away but Theo hadn't experienced anger like this for years and right then, he greeted it like an old friend. It was as if it had returned tenfold, as if it felt cheated of all the years it had been suppressed. His heart was pumping so hard he felt it might burst from his chest and he could almost __hear__ the adrenaline coursing through his system.

He knew that soon he would have to hit. To bite. To destroy.

His senses narrowed and sharpened. He focused first on Amycus who was still at his desk clearing some parchment, but the strategist in Theo told him that, no, it would be foolish to attack Amycus now, he'd have to wait to hurt him. And so his focus shifted to Flint and as it did, everything else - the classroom, the sounds of the students still milling around- dulled and faded.

Now, all Theo was, was a hunter.

He zoomed in on Flint's scent and the sound of his voice. They were faint; his prey was already walking off down the corridor outside. Theo rose from his seat, oblivious to anything else - even Parvati now - and strode purposely out of the classroom and into the crowded hall after his target.

He was vaguely aware that Daphne, who must have been waiting for him by the door, had fallen into step beside him. They exchanged a quick glance and Theo recognised the look on her face: she knew what he'd become. She was one of the few people who had seen it before. As bad as this. But he didn't care.

"Theo," Daphne was urging as she hurried along beside him. "You need to calm down. You need to come __back__."

Her voice was muffled, as if he had cotton wool stuck in his ears. He didn't respond, nor did he turn to look at her, but instead he continued to stride down the corridor, reaching up to undo his tie. It was best to get rid of it - he didn't want to get strangled during what he was about to do next.

"Theo," Daphne pleaded again as he knocked past students, determinedly striding down the corridor.

He kept his eyes trained on the back of Flint's head, which he could see several metres down the corridor. He thrust his tie out at Daphne to hold and was vaguely aware of her taking it. They reached the castle's exit and he hurried down the steps, through the inner courtyard to the quieter lawns beyond, Daphne fast on his heels.

Muggle duelling - fighting without wands - was fairly uncommon at Hogwarts. Why punch someone when you could jinx them? The Slytherins in particular thought Muggle duelling was beneath them - crude, primitive. It was mainly used impulsively, when two students got into a scuffle, or when a score needed to be settled and the participants didn't want to use magic because Muggle wounds ultimately did less damage and were easier to heal than magical ones. There was less chance of causing permanent injury. Or death. But Theo wanted - __needed__ \- to Muggle duel right then, to feel the breaking of bones under his fist, to use his muscles that were now pumped with blood and adrenaline.

A certain school yard etiquette had evolved regarding Muggle duelling. A third party was chosen as 'Arbiter', whom the two duellers relinquished their wands to. The Arbiter declared the start of the duel by raising the participants' two wands in the air. If the Arbiter thought the fight was becoming unfair or had gone too far, they could use their own wand to separate the fighters and stop the duel.

Theo finally came to a halt several meters from Flint, who was standing in a small huddle with Crabbe and Goyle. It took Theo a lot of mental energy to form his next words but a very muffled part of his rational mind was telling him he needed to respect the school yard rules, at least to some extent.

"Phenie. I don't ask much of you but I'm asking this of you now: don't try and stop this. I'll owe you. And you know I keep my promises," Theo said just as he slashed his wand through the air in the direction of Flint.

As a result of Theo's non-verbal __Expelliarmus__ , his target's wand sailed in a high arc towards him. He caught it neatly in his hand as Flint turned, frowning, searching for his disarmer. Theo thrust his hand out towards Daphne again, giving her no choice but to take the two pieces of magical wood.

Somewhat unwittingly, she'd accepted her role as Arbiter.

"Theo - no - please," Daphne implored as Theo and Flint took slow steps towards each other.

"What the fuck, Nott?" Flint spat, his forehead creased in a frown, seemingly more confused than angry.

"Theo -" Daphne entreated again.

Flint looked between Daphne and Theo, registering the wands in Daphne's hand and the look of white hot rage on Theo's face, and seemed to understand what it all meant. Flint had a choice to back out of the duel but he'd already lost pride in being a Slytherin without his wand. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and nodded imperceptibly - the gestures indicating his agreement in the fight.

The two Slytherins stepped closer to each other. Theo's arms had started to twitch. He needed to __hit__ now more than ever. He needed to see Flint bloodied and bruised and broken. He turned his head and looked properly at Daphne for the first time since leaving the Dark Arts classroom, forcing himself to ignore her anxious frown and the feelings it evoked in him.

"Call it!" Theo demanded of her, because that's what he, and Flint, and the students that had now started gathering around them, were waiting for.

Daphne continued to gaze at him pleadingly for a long, torturous moment before her ice-queen-mask finally came down over her face and her expression became cold and unreadable. She raised one arm into the air - the one that was brandishing the two wands - and shouted, clearly and confidently: "Muggle duel!"

It took less than a second for Theo's fist, with all his weight behind it, to smash into Flint's face.

 ** **Parvati****

By the time Parvati had gotten from the Dark Arts classroom to the entrance of the castle, Lavender, Seamus and Neville had updated her on what had happened when she was under Flint's Imperius Curse.

It took some moments for her vague memories of the experience to make sense in her mind. She flushed with embarrassment when hearing about it. The crawling, especially, caused a particularly intense feeling of humiliation in her, which mixed with a growing sense of outrage, and then a wave of gratitude that Flint had lost control when he had. Lavender paused awkwardly at that point in the story and Parvati could tell that there was something more her friend wanted to say but the group were then distracted by a loud crescendo of students' yells and shouts that came from outside.

Two third-year Hufflepuff boys came running in from the courtyard, their cheeks flushed and eyes wide in excitement.

"Hey, you two!" Neville called out at them and the younger boys came to a halt. "What's going on?"

The boys were both gasping for breath and one of them took a shuddering gulp of air before exclaiming: "It's Theodore Nott. He's __killing__ Marcus Flint!"

Parvati didn't hesitate.

She sprinted towards the noise, aware the others are following her, and pushed through a mass of four deep students to reach the front of a mob that had gathered on the lawns outside the courtyards. When she got through the crowd, she came to an abrupt halt, shocked at the scene before her. Theo was bent low, straddling a body on the ground and was pummelling the person's face with relentless blows. The person had feebly lifted his arms in front of his face to protect himself. Parvati had to __assume__ he was Marcus Flint because his face was unrecognisable - it was completely covered in blood, red swellings and bruises.

 _ _What's your biggest weakness?__

 _ _It's like ...there's this fury that simmers and boils over into just…white hot rage. It completely blinds me of anything but wanting to fight...to hit out...__

Parvati's gut twisted nauseatingly and she looked around for the Arbiter because, surely, they should have called this fight to a close by now? She saw Daphne Greengrass with three wands in her hand looking down at the fight, her normal ice-queen mask engaged, albeit with a slight furrowing of her brow.

"Daphne!" Parvati couldn't help but call out at her, and the Slytherin's eyes flicked up to meet hers.

Parvati didn't know Daphne - didn't know where the 'ice-queen' stood in all of this except…except that when Parvati had practiced 'mind talking' with Padma over their Christmas break, she had heard snippets of Padma's thoughts about the Greengrass girl. Parvati wanted to respect her twin's privacy, so she hadn't asked any questions of her, but that hadn't stopped her wondering…

As Daphne met her gaze, Parvati saw a subtle sadness in her eyes - a chink in her mask - and the imperceptible shake of her head. It was enough for Parvati to understand that, although Daphne wanted this fight to end, there was something preventing her from stopping it.

 _ _Where the hell were the teachers?__ But Parvati remembered that the Carrows and Snape had told staff to stop over-seeing break and lunch times -'the I.S. are more than adept at keeping things in order', they'd said. It had meant that fights like these had become more commonplace. It was no doubt a way of brutalising the students, leaving them to their own devices without any adult authority. Although the school had become totalitarian in many respects, it had devolved into anarchy in others.

Parvati noticed that Draco Malfoy had stepped forward, away from the crowd and towards the two men on the ground.

"Theo, mate!" He spoke loudly but it was as if Theo couldn't hear him - he just continued his relentless assault on Flint. "Theo!" Malfoy shouted louder. "He's had enough, mate!" But the punches Theo rained down on Flint persisted.

The fact that Malfoy was breaking school yard etiquette was a testament to how far the duel had gone. He then reached out and placed a hand on Theo's right shoulder. Immediately, Theo swung his left arm around and his fist crashed into Malfoy's face, causing him to stumble backwards as blood started to pour from his nose.

Theo had automatically turned back to Flint and raised his arm, ready to strike yet again, when Parvati found her legs moving forward towards the fray.

"Stop!" she cried, her voice shrill enough to be heard above the crowd. "Please __stop__!"

 ** **Theo****

It was as if all the anger Theo had ever felt - anger at Flint for humiliating Parvati, at what the fucker had done to Lavender Brown, anger at his father for the Crucios and the Unbreakable Vow, at having to live a life he'd never wanted and never asked for, at having the few good things in his life tainted with lies and secrecy, at the Carrows and their indiscriminate cruelty, and at fucking Tom Riddle for causing it all - was being channeled through him, through his blood and tissue and muscles, exploding out of him with the punches and kicks he rained down on Flint.

His senses were still narrowed and concentrated - on the metallic smell of Flint's blood, on his target's movements, which are smaller and weaker now, he was able to register. Everything else around him remained dulled and muffled, as if he and Flint were behind a thick glass wall. Which meant it was easy to block them out until someone was touching his shoulder, distracting him and threatening to break his focus, so he hit out to get rid of them and then -

"Stop! Please __stop__!"

\- and he was back on the night of the Book Burning, watching her crouching over her twin as she looked up at Amycus and cried out the same words: __Stop! Please__ stop!

The glass wall instantly shattered and his senses expanded outwards. The shouts of the student rabble assaulted his ears, the sound of it deafening, and he felt sudden jolts of pain from various parts of his body. He fleetingly registered that his hand was probably broken before lowering his arms and looking towards the cries.

She was standing slightly forward from the rest of the crowd, concern etched on her face, pity evident in the lines of her forehead and the slight parting of her lips. Theo rose to his feet and stepped towards her. The crowd of students grew quiet. He stopped a few meters from her, turned his head to the side, and spat. A blob of saliva and blood landed on the muddied grass. He looked back to her, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he attempted to slow his breathing. He was aware Flint hadn't moved from the ground behind him.

"You want me to stop, Patil?" His voice was hard but the question wasn't rhetorical.

Because with that question, he was giving her back control. If she said 'no' now, he would carry on; if she said 'yes', he would walk away. He would do whatever she said, unhesitatingly and unquestioningly. And he could tell from her face that she understood this - that now __she__ had control over what happened to Marcus Flint. And, despite the conviction with which Parvati had just cried out, Theo could see her hesitate now, as if she was suddenly unsure what she wanted Flint's fate to be.

The mass of students were looking from Parvati to Theo, as if they were understanding this too, and a deathly silence gradually descended over the horde as they waited for Parvati to answer.

* * *

A/N: Favs/follows/reviews are, as ever, treasured and cherished.

Thanks to my beta Rachael.


	41. Just You

**Ch. 41 Just You**

 _'_ _ _From the tip of his wand burst the silver doe: she landed on the office floor, bounded across the office and soared out of the window. Dumbledore watched her fly away, and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to Snape, and his eyes were full of tears. "After all this time?"__

 _"_ _ _Always," said Snape.'__

\- Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

 ** **Parvati****

"You want me to stop, Patil?"

Parvati hesitated. Her cry for Theo to stop had been instinctive, but now he was giving her a choice - a real choice - she hesitated.

She remembered what Marcus Flint had just done to her in the Dark Arts classroom, and what he had done to Lavender, which had been so much worse. She thought about what the boy could potentially become, if Voldemort won the war, if circumstances allowed him to be the worst that he could be.

She looked at Theo, bloodied and stooped, and recalled how out of control he'd been just a few moments ago. She wanted Flint stopped somehow, yes, but she didn't want Theo lowered to this level - for the messed-up situation they were in to have driven him to such extremes that he would be made a murderer. That would make him just as much a victim of Flint's deeds as anyone.

"Yes," she finally answered. Her voice was pitying and plaintive.

Theo nodded. The movement was short, sharp and conclusive.

In response to the exchange, the crowd, knowing the fight was finally over, seemed to relax, and the tense silence started to be filled with students' murmurings. Parvati wanted to go to Theo but knew she couldn't. Not here, not now. Not with all the school watching. Theo broke eye contact with her, no doubt thinking the same thing, and turned towards Daphne, just as there was a scuffle in the crowd.

"Move aside! Let me through!" an angry voice was calling out, and Parvati's stomach flipped in foreboding as she saw a tall, dark-haired figure push his way through the students. The rabble grew silent again.

Snape, after jostling his way to the front of the horde, came to a halt in front of Flint's body, which was still motionless on the ground. He surveyed Flint's form, alarm flickering across his face, before his head jerked up to meet Theo's. His expression turned to one of accusation, his eyes steely and hard, before sweeping his gaze over those students who stood sheepishly at the front of the crowd. They came to rest on the three wands in Daphne's hand.

"What in the __name__ of Salazar?" Snape furiously enunciated each word. Daphne flinched as Snape ripped the wands from her hand. "What were you __doing__ girl?" He bit out at her, clearly outraged that the fight had not been stopped before Flint had gotten into such a poor condition.

"You! And you!" Snape gestured towards Malfoy and Zabini. "Take Flint to Madam Pomfrey. Tell her I have personally requested for him to receive all the treatment he requires."

Pomfrey had to be discriminate with her healing skills these days. Sometimes she was told not treat students at all, sometimes she was only allowed to administer a certain quota or subset of healing potions and spells to help an injured student. Flint, being the son of ardent Voldemort supporters, would no doubt get all the help he needed.

Before marching away, the headmaster spun around and glared at Theo. "And you - have Pomfrey look you over and as soon as you're done, come straight to my office."

* * *

 ** **Theo****

Theo sat nervously in Snape's empty office, waiting for the professor to arrive. He had sustained three fractured ribs, two broken fingers, a sprained wrist, a broken nose and several cuts and bruises. Being Muggle wounds, Pomfrey was able to fix them to some extent, but his whole body still ached dully and he had to sit in a slightly stooped position to ease the soreness of his ribs.

He wondered if Flint was dead and if he'd now become a murderer. His stomach turned nauseatingly at the thought of it. Because it would prove his father right - that he was a monster, that only dark and evil resided in his soul. A darkness that Theo couldn't control no matter how hard he tried. If he had, indeed, ridden the world of Flint, he would have to resign himself to that fact now, surely. To the fact that there was no other path for him except that which his father had laid out for him.

As much as Theo hated Flint, now that he'd come out of his wolf rage, he regretted it all - regretted the violence and the aggression. But most of all, he regretted how he'd lost control.

He agitatedly picked at a recently healed scab on his arm and wondered what would happen to him if Flint were dead. Would he be expelled? In ordinary times, of course he would be, but these weren't ordinary times. What used to be condemned was now condoned and what had been wrong now perceived right. The wound on Theo's arm opened due to his ministrations and blood flowed from it once more. He watched as a thick river of red flowed down his arm and pooled on the arm of the chair. It was hard to predict what would happen to him.

The door burst open and the headmaster strode through his office. Theo hastily cast a healing charm on his arm as Snape spun behind his desk and sat abruptly down on his chair. Each movement was one of restrained fury, the glare he directed at Theo one of reproach and accusation.

"Severely bruised kidneys, four broken ribs - one of which has punctured a lung - a broken elbow and a fractured femur. The effect of several blows to his head on his brain functioning is yet unknown." Snape reeled off Flint's injuries as if he were sentencing Theo to a life in Azkaban.

"But he's alive?" Theo couldn't help but ask, keeping his voice hard and face indifferent.

Snape's face contorted into a sneer. "Yes, he's alive. Although he will be in the hospital wing for at least a month."

The headmaster leaned forward across his desk, his gaze intent.

"Theodore," Snape's voice was now low and earnest. "The boy had __bite marks__ on him. Several and deep. One just __millimetres__ from his jugular."

Theo tasted bile in his throat. He couldn't remember biting Flint. He barely remembered any of it - it was a blur of anger and hate and blood and blows.

"Theodore," Snape repeated his name. "We've had __countless__ discussions about how important it is that you learn to control yourself."

"Yes, sir." Theo replied tightly.

He was never sure how comfortable to allow himself to be with Snape. The man was unfathomable. Early on in his Hogwarts years, Theo had seemed to earn Snape's respect with his proficiency in Potions and his reserved, polite manner, which Snape seemed to appreciate. The teacher had seemed to take Theo under his wing when he'd found out about Theo's lycanthropy. On many an evening, they had sat together with mugs of tea and mostly discussed academics.

On the night that Dumbledore had fallen, Theo had been bitterly disappointed when Snape had revealed himself to be a loyal Death Eater once more. Although Snape was an aloof and proud man, Theo had genuinely thought that he had turned his back on Voldemort that night in 1981.

Now that Snape was a known and feared member of Voldemort's army once more, Theo was of course guarded when with him. But he still held onto another impression he'd gleaned of the man; still hoped that possibly he wasn't as loyal to Voldemort's regime as he purported to be.

"Have you been taking your suppressants correctly?" Snape asked now.

"Of course." Theo spoke the words dismissively, impatiently. He had to hold back a scoff - if only missing a dose of his suppressants were his only problem.

"Then what happened?" Snape's voice was stern again.

Theo was silent. He stared intently at the grains of wood on the surface of Snape's desk.

"There must have been a trigger and it's important we know what is was so you can avoid it in the future," Snape continued.

Cascades of dark wavy hair drifted into Theo's vision. He knew what his trigger was, of course, and he really didn't think it was avoidable.

"What class did you have before lunch?" Snape persisted.

"Dark Arts, sir," Theo murmured.

Snape paused, looking at him as if he were studying him. "And? What were you covering?"

"The Imperious Curse," Theo mumbled.

The was a movement from above Snape's head. Theo looked up to see Dumbledore fidget in his painting, his expression grave.

"So. Someone Imperiused you? And it triggered the wolf?" Merlin, the man was tenacious.

"No, sir," Theo bit out the words between tight lips.

Snape sighed impatiently. "Theodore, I cannot help but think you are being somewhat evasive! I can find this out by other means, you know. No doubt they'll be numerous rumours circulating throughout this school as we speak, and I have means of finding out the accuracy of every one if I so wish."

Theo was aware Snape's words were not idle threats. The man was valued within the Death Eater ranks for his advanced Legilimency skills. But, after many merciless lessons with Draco, Theo had become fairly advanced in Occlumency. However, there was always Veritaserum. Even though there was none left in the castle, Theo was sure Snape could get his hands on some if he so wished. It was inevitable that Snape would find out the source of Theo's rage eventually. Still, he didn't want to make it too easy for him.

"Flint, sir. Flint was __demonstrating__." Theo uttered the last word with disgust.

"Flint? No doubt many students would have practiced the curse during that lesson - including you no doubt - why did Flint get under your skin, in particular?"

"He's a dick," Theo replied, and felt a bitter amusement at the understatement he'd made.

"You went into a lycanthropic rage and nearly killed a boy because __'he's a dick'__?" Snape repeatedly scathingly.

"He doesn't know when to stop. He shows no respect to other pure-bloods, even if they __are__ blood traitors. He needs to be put in his place or else the man could become a loose canon."

"Blood traitors?" The query didn't come from Snape but from above the headmaster's head and both men raised their eyes to the portrait of Dumbledore. "I surmise from what you have said, young Theodore, that Flint was demonstrating the Unforgivable Curse on a so-called blood traitor?"

Theo's flicked his eyes down to the grains on Snape's desk again, aware his silence was an admission.

"Who? Which one?" Snape insisted. At Theo's prolonged silence, Snape let out a weary sigh and abruptly pushed back from the desk to lean against the back of his chair. "As I've said, this information will be easy enough for me to come by, regardless of whether or not you voluntarily impart it."

"Patil. Parvati Patil," Theo finally confessed. Now he was resigned to telling Snape everything about the Dark Arts lesson, he continued. "He asked her to get on her knees and crawl. Then simulated oral sex with her. Then asked her to strip. Which she started doing until - Flint lost control of the spell."

The bitterness he still felt at Flint's actions were evident in Theo's tone, and he realised he wasn't just angry at Flint, but at Snape too. By being in charge of this school, Snape had indirectly allowed those things to happen. Theo had hoped for more from the man, but he knew that was foolish - hope only ever led to disappointment.

Snape turned a ghostly white at Theo's words, his shoulders slumped dejectedly and his mouth twitched. Theo's gaze darted up to Dumbledore again, whose expression was solemn. It was the most disconcerted Theo had seen either of the men.

"So, it was the violation of this girl's autonomy and her subsequent humiliation that triggered your rage? That triggered the possessive, protectionist instincts of the wolf?"

Theo shrugged.

"Why her in particular?"

Theo slowly lifted his head to look Snape in the eye. He thought of the deep brown of Parvati's eyes, of her knowing smile and warm touch. Why her in particular? Theo didn't think he could articulate the answer to that question, even if he had wanted to. But in his hesitation, in an involuntary shift in his indifferent expression as he thought this through, he inadvertently gave more than he intended away to Snape. Understanding dawned on the teacher's face.

"Foolish!" Snape declared, banging his palm down on his desk. "How could you let such a powerful affection grow for a - for a __blood traitor__ \- one of the worst __types__ of Gryffindor girls - for someone so __entirely__ inappropriate?!"

Theo shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but remained silent. There was no point denying what Snape had concluded.

"Theodore," Snape's voice was earnest again, almost pleading. "You must desist. Whatever is going on between you and this girl, it must stop. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Theo mumbled.

"Becoming attached like this - to the wrong girl - it will not end well, Theo. It will only end in heartbreak."

Theo heard the tone of Snape's voice before, never in all the years of knowing him like he had. It was bitter and sad and regretful all at once.

"This was serious attack and I will have to confer with the Dark Lord about it before deciding how - and if - you'll be punished," Snape said wearily. "Go." He closed his eyes and waved his hand at Theo, a gesture of dismissal.

Theo's stomach contents lurched threateningly at the thought that he would be discussed with Voldemort. His strategy of staying under the radar was becoming a spectacular failure this year. Theo rose but just before he exited the headmaster's office, Snape spoke for the last time.

"Remember Theodore, in the name of Salazar, heed my words and end things with this girl."

"Yes sir," Theo murmured coldly, before quietly leaving the room.

* * *

After his interrogation with Snape, Theo deliberately avoided his housemates all day, but it was inevitable that he would have to face them at some point. Late that evening, after staying in the library for as long as he could, he shuffled into the common room. As he'd expected, Draco, Blaise, Daphne and Pansy were sat on the sofas. They turned to Theo as he entered, their gazes a mix of concern - that was mostly Daphne - accusation and guardedness.

Theo made his way to Draco first, knowing what he needed to do and refusing to put it off any longer. Draco looked up at him, his left eye black and bruised, his nose still caked in dried blood.

"I'm sorry, mate," Theo began. "I was - I wasn't myself. I shouldn't have hit you." Theo held out his hand for Draco to shake. Draco looked down at it, his face unreadable.

In the months since January, Theo had learnt that having someone teach you Legilimency required a deep trust of that person. He had, by now, let Draco delve into his mind on numerous occasions and knew that the boy had caught glimpses of Parvati, of Theo downing his lunar suppressant, of memories of his childhood that Theo often didn't even __want__ to remember. It had been a risk, but the incident on New Year's day - the disloyalty Draco had shown in attempting to cut his mark off - had been leverage for Theo.

Draco had never questioned Theo about what he had seen in his mind, and as far as he was aware, Draco had not mentioned it to anyone, not even Blaise. This apparent respect for his privacy had given Theo hope that maybe Draco was keeping his trust out of integrity, not just because Theo held damning information about him in the form of a dark comedown story.

As Draco held out his own hand for Theo to shake, he wondered if Draco had pieced what he'd seen in Theo's mind, together with the fight with Flint, and had guessed at the lycanthropic nature of Theo's rage.

"Apology accepted," Draco said.

A tension in the room seemed to relax at the sight of Draco and Theo shaking hands.

"Are you okay, Theo? What did Snape say?" Daphne asked anxiously.

Theo shrugged. "Said he'd have to speak to the Dark Lord about what happened," he tried to sound nonchalant, but his gut was still twisting at the thought of what might come from such a conversation. And at the thought of his father. Fuck knew what his father would do if, or when, he found out.

"Shit," Daphne said as a heaviness descended on the group. Even Pansy's normally calm exterior broke slightly; she looked wary. They all knew the seriousness of having your deeds discussed with the Dark Lord. There was an awkward silence.

"Mate, you were unstoppable," Blaise commented after a moment, a mixture of incredulity, reproach and awe in his voice.

"Hmm...not completely unstoppable..." Pansy remarked, her brow arching curiously. "He did stop eventually. Funny though, how the only thing - __person__ rather - that got you to stop was the blood traitor bitch, Patil, isn't it Theo?" Pansy's voice was smooth as velvet but her eyes were sharp.

Theo looked at her, schooling his face into hard indifference. "She had an annoying as fuck, shrill voice. It was hard to ignore," Theo commented, trying to sound as disparaging as possible.

"Right. Her voice," Pansy stated, clearly unconvinced. "And then you asked her what she wanted you to do."

"The question was sarcastic," Theo lied. "As if I was gonna do what she said."

"Why'd Flint get you so worked up, mate?" Blaise asked.

Daphne looked pointedly down at the floor and Draco shifted uncomfortably.

"The dickhead needs to be reigned in. Patil's still a pureblood, even if she is blood traitor scum. The Dark Lord has asked us to not harm those of us that are pure of blood and that are currently attending this school. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a waste - you know that."

Pansy's face seemed to relax at Theo's explanation, and Theo took that as an opportunity to take his leave. "Well, anyway, it's been a long day. I'm hitting the hay."

He hastily left the common room, feeling Pansy's shrewd eyes burning into his back.

* * *

Theo found a note in his bag the next day, with a few words scrawled across it in Parvati's handwriting: __Meet me tonight. The same place. 2am. Please.__

At two the next morning, Theo found himself in the old broom shed again. She was there before him, leaning against the workbench, her eyes growing wide and face concerned as he cast off his Disillusionment Charm.

Snape's words reeled through his mind - __it will only end in heartbreak__ \- followed by the image of Pansy's cruel eyes and knowing smile. Theo had entertained the idea of ignoring Parvati's request for a meeting, of not turning up and pretending none of this had ever happened, but his resolve had only lasted a few minutes at most. Instead, he'd spent the day convincing himself that he should end it with her - whatever 'it' was - but that he would meet her to explain this; that tonight would be the last time he'd be with Parvati in this way.

The whole thing, he reasoned, was messy and stupid and reckless, and worst of all, put her at risk, and fundamentally, surely, didn't mean anything anyway.

"What do you want?" Theo asked in greeting. He tried to make his voice hard and accusing.

"I - I wanted to know if you're okay?"

Sometimes, looking in the brown depths of Parvati's eyes was like falling down a well; he wasn't sure what he'd find at the bottom but the descent was exhilarating, intoxicating and soothing all at once. Fuck, she was beautiful.

"Fine. I'm fine," Theo replied dismissively.

Parvati took several steps towards him, frowning anxiously. "That was - that was a serious fight - I was worried - worried that you'd been hurt." She lifted a hand up as if reaching out to touch him but faltered and lowered it again.

"Just a few broken fingers, Patil. It's nothing."

"Right," She shuffled her weight from one foot to the other awkwardly, and her lips turned up in a half smile. "And I wanted to say thank you for my birthday present. You remembered - you remembered that chocolate frogs were my favourite. And...Lavender told me - she told me what you did, in class - to - to stop Flint. So thank you. For that as well." Her voice managed to sound strong and gentle at the same time.

Why, in the name of Salazar, was she always thanking him for things?

"Brown knows?" Theo had surmised as much - he'd effectively revealed himself when he'd cast the Confundus in that Dark Arts class.

"Yes. I told her - about us. I said - I said we could trust you."

The words - __us…trust you__ \- dropped like lead balloons in Theo's stomach, simultaneously warming his heart and clenching it painfully at the same time.

" _ _Us?__ There is no __us__ , Patil," Theo forced the words out, trying not to choke on them. Because there shouldn't be, there couldn't be. "And like I've said before, you're a fool if you think you can trust me."

Parvati took another step towards him. She was within arms reach now. "When have you ever done anything that would make me think I couldn't trust you?"

There was a silence, because Theo had no answer for her. His resolve - to end this - had been diminishing with every step Parvati took towards him, with every flicker of her eyes and turn of her lips. He tried to summon Snape's words again, and the cruelness of Pansy's eyes, but they were retreating to the corners of his mind, out of reach.

"So, you wanted to know if I was okay. Is that all?" he asked scathingly. He couldn't understand why Parvati had asked to meet him again; he had never understood why she would want him. "No more information about the Death Eaters? Snape's latest password? You want me to save another of your foolhardy friends from the dungeons?"

"No. No. I don't want any of those things," Parvati protested, and Theo tried to ignore the hurt and confusion in her voice.

"Then what? What do you want?" He was aware he was pushing her away again with his words, and the wretchedness he felt at having to do it made his voice rise.

She stared at him for a moment, her eyes glinting with an intensity he hadn't seen before.

"You," she finally spoke. "I just want you." Her voice was plaintive, as if what she had stated was so obvious she couldn't understand why he didn't know it.

He huffed, incredulous. "Just me?" he tried to sound scornful but his tone came out weak, as if he were genuinely asking for clarification. Maybe he was.

"Just you," she repeated.

She reached out a hand to him again, her and this time she didn't falter in her movement. She brushed some stray strands of hair away from his forehead and stoked the back of her fingers down his cheek. The feel of it set sparks alight, all the way down his spine.

The remains of Theo's intent to try and stop whatever was happened with Parvati dissolved with that one touch. Before he knew what was happening, he was cupping her head in his hand and leaning towards her, pressing his lips to hers and they were kissing deeply and tenderly.

The next hour or so was a hazy, delightful blur when Theo recalled it later, although there were moments that he remembered vividly and recollected over and over again in his mind.

They had somehow came to lie down on the cushions, their hands traveling over each other's bodies, dipping and stroking and probing, sometimes heated and hurried, sometimes slow and languid... Theo kissed Parvati in places he never had before, along the rise and fall of her collar bone, over her breasts, grazing her nipples, hearing the wonderful sounds of her moans and whimpers.

This time when Parvati gripped at his shirt to pull it off him, he let her. He saw how her eyes immediately darted to his left forearm, saw the relief in her eyes as she took in the untouched, unmarked skin there. She raised his arm to her lips and bent to kiss the inside of his wrist, pressing down on his pulse point, the sensation making him gasp in pleasure...

He remembered the warmth of her breath on his skin, the heat of her mouth and tongue, swiping and licking...he remembered seeing her naked for the first time, how he'd paused for an inordinate amount of time, looking her slowly up and down, wanting to take all of her in, to memorise every one of her dips and curves, freckles and blemishes. She'd become self conscious then, had giggled under his impenetrable gaze, reaching forward to undo his flies in an attempt to take the attention away from herself.

He remembered the heat of his body growing to a fever pitch as he found himself positioning his cock at her entrance, looking down at her flushed face, at the want in her eyes.

"Have you - before?" he managed to ask, thinking he should really have brought the topic up earlier.

"Yes," she answered, smiling up at him reassuringly.

He felt a mixture of relief that he didn't have the responsibility of this being her first time, but also disconcerted that there had been others. He hurriedly dismissed the latter feeling, knowing it was only the possessiveness of the wolf stirring.

"And you?" she echoed his question back at him.

"Yes. I have. Before," he answered awkwardly, and then made them both moan as he moved his cock along her soaking folds.

"Please," she murmured hotly in his ear.

"Are you sure?"

Her expression morphed to something resolute; there was a blazing fierceness in it; he realised he was witnessing the lioness in her again.

"Yes," she said with a conviction he hadn't heard before.

He kept his gaze locked on hers as her thrust up into her, the exquisite feeling of her walls around his cock causing him to cry out in a half-whimper, half-groan.

And as he started to move inside her, heat flooding his body, looking into her eyes which were burning with a passion unique to her, he realised that he'd never felt more connected to another human being.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to my beta Rachael.

As ever, I love your thoughts and reviews and favs. They really keep me going :)


	42. Please

**Ch. 42 Please**

* * *

 _'_ _ _"You are protected, in short, by your ability to love!" said Dumbledore loudly. "The only protection that can possibly work against the lure of power like Voldemort's!"__

\- Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

* * *

 ** **Parvati****

"Please," Parvati said.

"Please what?"

She did this a lot, this pleading. Often she didn't know what she was pleading for, just that she didn't want it to stop. Or that she was desperate for it to stop, to get some release.

But sometimes, she __did__ know, and so when Theo insisted – "Please __what__?", his voice thick with his own lust – she told him...

* * *

They'd met nearly every night since Theo's fight with Flint, and sometimes during the day too, in empty classrooms and disused cupboards throughout the castle. They both knew it was stupidly risky but the impending Easter holidays, hence two weeks separation, and their seemingly insatiable desire for each other, overcame their instinct for safety.

"Please what?" Theo had asked numerous times now.

She was sometimes so overwhelmed with need by that point, it overshadowed her potential embarrassment at voicing an answer: "Kiss me...bite me...touch me...yes, there, like that..."

* * *

"Please."

"Please what?"

"I want to go on top," she murmured mischievously into his neck.

In response, he gripped her by her hips in order to keep inside her and rolled onto his back so that she could straddle him, take more of him in. As she moved up and down on his cock, he looked up at her with a mixture of lust and something like awe.

* * *

He always seemed to be complimenting her.

"I love your skin," he whispered whilst running his tongue along her chest. "I love the curves of you," he murmured as he lightly stroked a finger along the dip between her pelvic bone and stomach. "I love how wet your cunt gets..."

* * *

"Please."

"Please what?"

Sometimes, usually because she was so turned on she couldn't form the words, she had to show him the answer.

Like the time a week or so before the end of term when, due to some fluke of Flitwick's pairing-up, Parvati had ended up sitting next to Theo in Charms. She couldn't see or think of anything else for the duration of the lesson except the contour of his arm muscles, the delicious roughness of his hands, the softness of his lips…

Each memory, each imagining, sent a wave of arousal through her body and ended with a rush of wet heat between her legs. As the lesson went on, she found herself squirming in her seat to create some friction, to try and get some release.

She knew Theo was aware of what she was feeling. She could tell by the way his casting was clumsy and distracted, the way he fidgeted, the way he purposely avoided touching or looking at her, lest that set off something uncontrollable in both of them.

During the flurry of students leaving the room at the end of the lesson, he leant in quickly and hissed in her ear.

'"Old history classroom. Third floor. __Now."__

They took different routes there and he arrived just after she entered, slamming the door shut and locking it swiftly with his wand. He rounded on her, crushing his lips to hers in a deep, rough kiss before pulling away and looking at her accusingly.

"You know I could __smell__ you, Til?" 'Til' – sometimes 'Tilly' – a shortening of 'Patil' that he'd started calling her. Which, of course, she loved. His fingers were gliding softly down her neck, then lower, over her breast, and back up again. "I could __smell__ how wet you were getting in that lesson. Do you have any idea what that does to me?"

They kissed deeply and hungrily as his fingers continued their soft, almost torturous pursuit over her breast. So light, barely there, but enough for her breath to quicken and heart to stutter. Theo ended the kiss by biting down on her bottom lip. His hand still lingered at her chest, stroking gently, too gently...

"Please." It came out like a whimper.

"Please what?"

But she couldn't voice what she needed so she lifted her wand subtly and caused all the buttons on her shirt to open, reached for his hand and pushed it down on her breast. He understood then and grasped her firmly, pinching her nipple hard, causing her to gasp as the feeling shot straight to her clit. Noticing her reaction, he pinched and caressed both her breasts, hard and firm. She moaned and reached out her hands to hold onto his shoulders, something she always did when his attentions had made her knees weak.

"Doesn't that hurt?" he murmured.

"No." __Yes.__ But the line between pleasure and pain was often blurred with him. Two sides of the same coin, isn't that what they said? A coin that was continuously turning for her...like love and hate...and wasn't she supposed to hate him?...

* * *

"I don't understand why you want me," he mumbled once to the inside of her thigh. It was said with genuine curiosity, as if he were talking to himself.

She was about to answer, about to explain how she couldn't __help__ but want him, how it didn't feel like a choice, but then his mouth was on her clit and his tongue was inside her and it was like she'd forgotten how to think, let alone speak. Her mind was suddenly bereft of thoughts – there was only sensation, only the touch of him.

Later, the comment helped her make sense of why he insisted on these words from her: it turned him on, yes – it turned her on too – but it also seemed to give him reassurance. Reassurance that she craved his touch as much as he craved hers.

* * *

On the last night of the Spring Term, they both lay on the cushions in the broom shed once more. Theo had spent Merlin-knew how long teasing Parvati with his fingers and finally letting her do the same to him. Now, his cock was right up against her, just a millimetre or so and it would be inside her...and she needed that, she needed to feel filled-up by him but he was just holding it there, occasionally adjusting the pressure, continuing to tease her.

"Please." She arched her hips up towards him in an attempt to demonstrate what she wanted.

"Please what?" he breathed in her ear, although they both knew he knew.

"Fuck me."

He withdrew his cock... _ _no__...moved it along her lips to her clit and started circling the head of it there whilst sliding a fingers inside her.

"Like this?" he teased.

She loved the feeling of his fingers inside her. Loved what they could do, their subtle precision, but right now she needed something else, and most of all she wanted it for him. She wanted to hear the noises he made when he entered her, see the flush of his cheeks, the way his eyes glazed over and his lips parted…

"No..." She murmured.

"Then how?" he mumbled into her neck.

"I want you inside me...I want your cock inside me."

He didn't hesitate then – he entered her in an instant, thrusting deep as he let out a low, guttural noise. He was looking down at her neck, her chest, seemingly anywhere but her face, so she reached out and cupped his jaw in the palm of her hand, angling his head so he had no choice but to look her in the eyes

She knew why he was avoiding eye contact. It was because he couldn't keep his walls up when they fucked. When he was inside her, the hollowness and the hardness melted away.

She looked into his eyes because it was the only time she could see them without that lost, haunted look.

As he moved inside her, words came unbidden into her mind again, as they had done increasingly over the last week.

Words which were pure in their truth, words which were now a part of her, as if they'd been woven into her very soul. But she could never speak these words aloud because of what they would mean. For her, for him, for who they were and what they were doing.

So she said them silently to herself instead, over and over again, to the rhythm of him moving in her. So at least her mind could bear witness to them:

 _ _I love you.__

 _ _I love you.__

 _ _I love you.__

* * *

 ** **Lavender****

It was the last day of term and the students were gathering at the exits of the castle, ready to make the descent down the hill to where the carriages would take them to Hogsmeade Station. Parvati had run off at the last minute, whispering to Lavender that she was going to see bloody Theodore Nott one last time and insisted that Lavender go onto Hogsmeade without her. Hence, Lavender found herself falling into step with Ginny and Neville as they plodded down the hillside.

"I've been thinking of what Trelawney said," Neville was saying. "That time we helped her move those crystal balls, do you remember? The more I think about it, the more I can't help thinking that, you know, it might have been a real prophecy."

"It __was__ a real prophecy," Lavender confirmed. She had said so at the time, but hadn't brought it up since because she knew that she would be met with scepticism on the subject of Divination from nearly everyone, except maybe Parvati.

"It __was__ pretty weird," Ginny conceded. "To be honest, I can't remember exactly what she said, or whether I'd be able to make head nor tail of it if I could."

"'When the Boy Who Lived returns to his home' – that was the beginning bit." Lavender recalled.

"So that means Harry, obviously. So something will happen when he returns to his home. His aunt and uncle live in Surrey, right? Maybe we should tell people to keep an eye on their house there? If they're not already…" Neville suggested, lowering his voice as he spoke.

"No," Ginny said firmly. "No, Harry never considered that place a home. __My__ place was more of a home to him than the Dursley's."

"Okay, so where then? What about that place you told us about – where the Order meet?" Neville asked.

Ginny looked thoughtful then shook her head. "No. It means here. Hogwarts was the first place that felt like a proper home to Harry. It means he's coming back here."

"I knew it! I knew he'd come back to us!" Neville exclaimed. "But then the next bit was about a fight, wasn't it? 'The final battle between the Light and Dark will commence.' So there's going to battle – at Hogwarts?"

"'Many will fight and many will fall within the walls of this very school…'" Lavender recited quietly.

The three walked on in silence for a few moments, contemplating, thinking, until Lavender couldn't bear the tense quiet anymore and continued. "'It will be won and lost before the fifth month ends.' So, May. It's going to happen by the end of May?"

"That's - that's so soon," Neville said warily.

"'The most powerful weapon being the loyalty of friends'. She was looking at you when she said that Ginny," Lavender remembered.

"So?"

"Well. I suppose you might have to make a choice," Lavender shrugged. "A choice that involves loyalty."

"Hmm…choosing loyalty to my friends won't be hard," Ginny remarked. "Then what did she say when she looked at you, Lav?"

"'For the girl of the purple flowers, beware the wolf and his shape-shifting powers,'" Lavender answered reluctantly. She had tried not to think too much about that specific line of Trelawney's prophecy.

"So, you need to watch out for werewolves. That's good – that's good you have a warning at least." Ginny said, no doubt in an effort to take something positive from the ominous prediction.

"'And then there was that bit about me – I remember __that__ bit," Neville said, and Lavender was grateful to him for moving the conversation on. "'For the boy born to those who sacrificed their minds for the Light, take heed of the request that you will receive that night. Remember your part is pivotal if the Chosen One is slain, for if you fail in your task, all else will be in vain.'"

Lavender had heard vague rumours of what had happened to Neville's parents during the First Wizarding War, and she took Neville's acceptance of Trelawney's prophecy as confirmation of the truth of them. A chill pricked her spine as she thought about how Neville had had to shoulder the knowledge of what had happened to his parents whilst the people that were responsible for rendering them insane were free once more, capable of inflicting the same kind of suffering again.

"So, you're going to be asked to do something Nev," Lavender concluded. "And if Harry – well, if he doesn't make it, and you don't do this thing, it sounds like we're all fucked."

"No pressure then," Neville said dryly.

"You'll be fine, because it won't matter anyway, because Harry won't be 'slain'! He's fought of You-Know-Who loads of times already," Ginny retorted definitively.

The three finally came to a halt at the end of the line of students waiting for the Thestral-drawn carriages to Hogsmeade. They fell silent again, until Lavender noticed Neville watching Hannah Abbott clamber onto a carriage ahead of them

"So, when are you going to make a move Nev?" she asked, in an attempt to change the subject to something more light-hearted.

"I – what?"

Lavender smiled ruefully. She had noticed Neville and Hannah dance around each other for weeks now. "It's starting to get __painful__ watching the two of you," she commented.

A flush crept up Neville's cheeks. "I just think – I don't know if she – I just think maybe I should wait a bit before I –"

"What are you waiting for?"

Neville opened his mouth to speak again but then seemed to change his mind and shut it. He shrugged instead.

"Well, don't wait too long. You don't want to run out of time," Ginny said thoughtfully. "Life's too short, you know? And it seems to be getting shorter."

"There's always next term."

"Is there?" Lavender asked, thinking of Luna.

The three were silent again.

"Well, a lot of shit would have to go down to stop __me__ from coming back next term," Ginny declared grimly, her jaw set determinedly.

They finally got to the front of the queue and an empty carriage rolled up in front of them. As Lavender clambered onto it she wondered, not for the first time, how long it would be until she'd be able to see the creatures that pulled it.

* * *

Lavender waited until the very last moment to do it. She waited until the Hogwarts Express had reached King's Cross and the students had started to disperse from each other and be folded in the embraces of their family. She waited until Seamus and her had been saying goodbye for an inordinate amount of time and there was absolutely nothing left to say.

Finally, she reached into her pocket, pulled out an envelope and thrust it his hand.

"Just something to remember me by. Over the holidays," she explained shyly and before he could respond, she turned and hurried away.

Despite how much she'd changed in the last school year, she still remembered, with a burning embarrassment, her sentimental dramas over the Ron fiasco, and hoped Seamus didn't think her gesture silly or egocentric.

Just before Lavender reached her mother, she looked back at Seamus in time to see him look down, open the envelope, and pull out a folded piece of parchment. A well of relief and contentment settled in her when she saw a smile spread across his face as he noted the dried lavender that had been pressed between its pages.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to me beta Rachael.

Favs/reviews/thoughts are greatly loved and hugely appreciated.


	43. Changed

**A/N:**

Yikes! I'm back! So sorry for the wait...but I'm back for good now! The rest of this story is written and I'll be updating weekly from now one :o)

* * *

 **Ch. 43 Changed**

 _ _Neville chuckled. Luna turned her pale eyes on him instead.__

 _ _"And I don't know who you are."__

 _ _"I'm nobody," said Neville hurriedly.__

 _ _"No, you're not," said Ginny sharply. "Neville Longbottom – Luna Lovegood..."'__

– Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix.

 ** **Neville****

Neville knew what he was doing was irrational, but he couldn't help it. Maybe the rumours weren't entirely true, he thought desperately, as he started walking down the corridor of the Hogwarts Express a second time.

The stories he'd heard over the Easter holidays had been littered with holes, but he'd managed to piece together some kind of narrative from the information his gran had acquired and what was said on __Potterwatch__. Harry, Ron and Hermione and been caught by Snatchers and taken to Malfoy Manor but had somehow, thankfully, escaped. As a result, Ginny and all the Weasleys had gone into hiding and, in the process, Luna had somehow been found too and was hopefully somewhere safe now. Neville's heart had lightened with relief when he'd heard the news of his friends, and that Harry was still out there, fighting and doing…whatever it was that he needed to be doing.

Despite these rumours, and even though he knew it was unlikely, Neville still hoped that Ginny had somehow found a safe way to return to Hogwarts. He would be lost without her. First Luna, then Ginny. Brave, fierce Ginny who always knew what to do next, always managed to cajole a despondent DA into determined action, always rallied the group with her agitated passion and a voice raised higher than everyone else's put together. Ginny, who had once corrected him when he'd introduced himself as 'nobody'; who had seen his worth when he himself hadn't.

So when Neville had boarded the Hogwarts Express at the start of the summer term, he held onto a stubborn glimmer of hope that Ginny would be there. He had marched the length of the train, peering into every compartment, looking for a flash of red hair. But to no avail. At the end of the train, he turned, deciding he was too restless to find a seat yet, and started walking down the long corridor a second time. Maybe he'd missed her...

"Neville!" someone called behind him. It was a voice that reminded him of sweetness and sunshine, but it wasn't Ginny's.

He turned and saw Hannah approach him, a smile on her face that made her look hopeful and sad at the same time. How did she do that, Neville thought, display so many emotions on her face at once?

"I've seen you go past twice now?" Hannah queried gently as she reached him.

"I'm just looking for someone," Neville said, and turned to resume his search.

"Neville," Hannah said again, and because he found it impossible to rebuff twice, Neville halted, and looked her in the eyes for the first time. "She's not coming back. You must know that."

Neville opened his mouth to speak but found there were no words of objection there, for he knew deep down that Hannah was right.

"Ginny," Hannah stated in clarification. Her voice was so soft and quiet it was almost a whisper. "She would've had to go into hiding."

"I know but – I just thought, you know, that I'd double check. All the info we get is so second-hand and broken up."

"I know. But I think what we've heard about Ginny is true. I didn't see a single Weasley on the platform and they're usually not hard to spot."

Neville gave a short nod of acknowledgement. "Just. First Luna, now Ginny. I don't know what to do –" Neville broke off, unsure what he'd meant to say.

Hannah smiled and started to reach out to take his hand, then faltered and withdrew it. The tight knot in Neville's stomach loosened slightly as he looked at her. Even on the coldest days of winter at Hogwarts, Hannah Abbott always seemed to exude warmth: the liquid amber of her eyes, the way her hair shimmered different shades of gold as she moved, how her smile made you feel enveloped in a kind of tenderness.

"Come and sit with us," she suggested gently. "I'm with Ernie and Susan."

"Sure. Okay," Neville conceded, and followed Hannah to her compartment, as the train rumbled on to the mountains and lakes that housed their once-loved school.

* * *

It had all escalated rather quickly.

It was the first meeting of Dumbledore's Army, a few days into the new term, and to Neville's dismay the group were arguing amongst themselves, loudly and heatedly. Neville wasn't sure how it had started but they had been talking, somewhat anxiously, about the rumours they'd heard and who might be dead – and who might not be – then Ernie was saying something about how the Ravenclaws 'didn't know everything all the time' and that they needed to 'get their heads out from their own arses', and then Michael was saying something about how it was 'really fucking tiresome that the 'Puffs always thought they were the pinnacle of fairness and goodness', and then Seamus was trying to tell them all to 'calm the fuck down', and then several people were rounding on him, saying that the Gryffindors were the worst of them all for thinking they were 'so much better and braver and cooler'.

Neville stood silently as the argument spiraled, paralysed with apprehension and alarm. It was their first meeting without Ginny and already things were falling apart.

"Stop!" The cry was shrill and loud and cut above all the other agitated voices. The room fell silent as people turned towards its source: Hannah. " _ _Look__ at yourselves! What are we doing? I know the stuff we're hearing is horrible, I know we're all upset about Ginny not coming back and that this school feels more like a Death-Eater-training-camp-come-prison than ever but –" Hannah wavered in exasperation, seeming to have run out of words.

There was a tense silence, which was leaden with the possibility that the argument was going to start again. Desperate for it not to, Neville found himself stepping forward.

"Hannah's right. We can't fight amongst ourselves. It makes us weaker, and that's exactly what they want. Because they're scared. They're scared of what we can do when we're united." To Neville's surprise, the group remained quiet and, buoyed by the fact that they all seemed to be listening, he continued. "We're already divided. The Sorting Hat did that on our very first day at this school. The colours on our ties, the common rooms we seek comfort in, the Quidditch teams we cheer – those things already divide us all. And that's been okay because it's provided us with somewhere to belong, and it was all just fun rivalry at worst. But we can't let that rivalry turn into resentment. We can't turn on each other because it distracts from the bigger picture, from the __actual__ things we need to be fighting against! Remember what the Sorting Hat said at the beginning of the year –" Neville had to stop to take a breath.

"'Being sorted into these four houses can gift you with friends and allies, but it also splits and separates, causing you to doubt and to despise,'" Parvati said in a quiet voice.

"Yes!" Neville, exclaimed, smiling gratefully at Parvati.

The group were quiet. A sheepish awkwardness hung in the air.

"You're right, Nev," Ernie mumbled uncomfortably. "I'm sorry for what I said, about the other houses."

There was murmuring of agreement and apologies.

"So, are you going to lead us now, Neville?" Terry asked excitedly.

Neville felt a familiar feeling of alarm at the suggestion. "What? No…no…I can't – I mean, do we need a leader?"

Lavender laughed derisively. "You've just seen what a mess we can be. I think we definitely need someone. And it makes sense that it's you, Neville."

Did it? How did that make sense? Neville couldn't help but ask himself. But there was a ripple of agreement at Lavender's words and Neville found himself looking back at a sea of expectant faces. If Neville were to lead them, he couldn't help but think __what__ he would be leading them towards.

Back in fourth year, when Harry and Cedric, united in a spirit of fairness, had simultaneously grasped hold of that cup that was actually a Portkey, they'd thought they were only playing a game. But they'd been sucked unknowingly into the start of a war, which had claimed one of their lives soon after.

Now, did they think they were fighting a war but were actually playing games? This bunch of kids that wanted to save the world – playing games that were far, far too big for them?

"Erm…I dunno," Neville garbled, suddenly feeling suffocated and having a desperate urge to run from the room. "Well - well, Padma was going to guide our session tonight. She was going to teach some more advanced healing charms." Neville thought his best strategy was to move the group onto the rest of the meeting.

Padma stepped forward. "Sure. Of course. I thought we'd start with wound healing..."

Ten minutes later, the urge to get out of the room had not left Neville. When he was sure everyone was distracted by the lesson, he snuck out of the door and made his way to the place in the castle where it was unlikely anyone could find him.

* * *

Neville sat on the edge of the battlements of the Astronomy Tower, staring out at a black sky. It had been risky, coming to the tower this late in the evening, he'd craved the wide view of the stars that the battlements provided. It always managed to calm him.

He must have been there for about fifteen minutes when he heard a scuffle behind him. Abruptly turning at the sound, he raised his wand, but relaxed when he saw the honeyed shine of Hannah's hair and the paleness of her face as she made her way over to where Neville was sitting. She sat down next to him, her moves tentative, ensuring her legs remained on the stone floor of the tower, whilst his dangled over the edge. She smiled in greeting and Neville turned wordlessly back to the stars.

After a moment of silence, Hannah spoke. "Sometimes, I want to disappear too."

Neville remained quiet, wondering how Hannah had found him here and how she had managed to sum up in a few words the complex range of emotions that had been dancing about his mind.

"Like drinking shrinking potion," Hannah continued, seemingly unfazed by Neville's lack of response. "But so much that I shrink and shrink until there's nothing left of me. Just for a bit, not forever, just when things get too much. Like that time in my Transfiguration exam when I turned a ferret into a bunch of flamingos and I was sure I'd messed up my whole OWL. And the other day when Amycus asked me to perform the Imperius Curse in Dark Arts."

Neville had heard about how Hannah had broken a Hufflepuff record by getting a detention on the first day of term. She had, again, refused to perform the Imperius Curse. She'd always hated that curse in particular, as much as he hated Crucio, and Neville had often wondered why.

"And like that day last year when I got called out of Herbology to Dumbledore's office," Hannah continued more quietly, her voice solemn. "My dad was there with Eloise. As soon as I looked at his face, I knew. But it was still a shock to hear the words. When Dumbledore said she'd died."

Neville looked at Hannah then and something tight clenched at his heart. Hannah never talked about her mother. He knew she had been killed by Death Eaters, but the details remained a mystery to almost everyone, as far as Neville knew.

"What happened, Hannah?" he asked gently. "To your mother? How did she die – exactly?"

Hannah shook her head. "I can't –" she started then stopped, and Neville was flooded with guilt for asking.

"That's okay. I'm sorry, it's none of my business." he said hurriedly

"It's just – it's hard. To speak about –"

"You don't have to tell me." Neville reassured.

They exchanged another smile, before a silence grew between them once more. Neville returned to thinking of what had brought him to the tower in the first place.

"I'm not the right person to lead, Hannah," he found himself saying. "I'm – I'm not a fighter. I'm a thinker. And – you've seen me, I hate confrontation, I always want people to just get along, unless someone __really__ pisses me off. I've always said, we have to wait for Harry, I know he'll turn up and know what to do. They need to just wait for Harry –"

"Neville," Hannah interrupted with a hint of exasperation in her voice. "Don't you get it? They're not wanting you to be their leader despite all those things, they're wanting you to lead __because__ of them. Because you __think__ before launching into a fight. Because you seek to unite people and only decide on conflict when it's a last resort. Because you have an unwavering loyalty and faith in your friends, and in Harry, and in so doing have given hope to the doubters this whole school year." Hannah paused. "Besides, all this is a bit redundant anyway. You've been leading them – us – if not in name, but in action, for ages now."

Hannah's words reverberated around Neville's mind and as they finally settled, he felt something unusual but welcome rise up inside him: a kind of resolute confidence. Maybe he __could__ do it. Ginny and Luna would be counting on him. And they would have faith that he could do it too.

"You don't have to do anything different, Neville," Hannah reiterated. " You've been doing it already for months now. And I think they – we – need you to carry on."

* * *

 ** **Parvati****

On returning to Hogwarts after the Easter holidays, Parvati immediately noticed the change in Theo.

He looked different, for one thing: paler, thinner, with dark circles under his eyes. His walk was different too: his shoulders were always slumped, giving him a defeated air. Before, his eyes had been sharp and, despite the regime in place at the school, he'd remained curious in classes, frequently raising his hand with a certain energetic questioning. Now, he sat staring with blank eyes at the desk in front of him, as if looking but not seeing. Parvati wasn't sure if he was even listening in lessons. It was as if he was an empty shell of what he'd been before the holidays; existing but not living.

A few days into the term, she'd managed to slip another 'disguised' note into his library book, asking him to meet her in the broom shed that night. But he hadn't come. So she'd managed to sneak another one into his bag two days later, thinking maybe he hadn't got her first note or that something had prevented him from leaving his dormitory to meet her. But again, he failed to arrive, and she'd ended up falling asleep on the cushions, cold and alone.

She tried to catch his eye in lessons, the Great Hall, as they passed each other in the corridors, but he always avoided her gaze. Finally, she realised with a sinking heart that he was deliberately avoiding her. She considered countless reasons for why this might be, but she couldn't convince herself of any of them.

In an effort to communicate with him, she did something quite reckless. She followed him to a quiet part of the library as he went searching for a book and stood by him, under the guise of scanning the shelves. She could sense him stiffen by her side, but otherwise he didn't acknowledge her.

"Why are you ignoring me?" she whispered, when she was as sure as she could be that they wouldn't be overheard. She cringed at herself for the childishness of the question.

"Stay the fuck away from me, Patil," he bit out contemptuously, before walking away.

His words and tone were like a punch in the gut and it took a moment or so for her heart to slow and for her to squash back the hot sting of tears in her eyes.

Still, she didn't give up. She noticed how he left the Quidditch stands during the middle of a match and hurried down to the ground, meeting him at the bottom. There was no one else around and their voices would be drowned out by the noise of the crowd in the seats above them.

His eyes darkened when he saw her. "I told you to stay away from me."

"Theo," she began tentatively. "I don't understand. Last term – you were – we were – why are you being like this?"

"Can't you get a hint? I'm not interested anymore. I don't want you. You were fun to play with for a while but I'm bored of you now."

Although his words cut through her like knives she just, well, didn't quite believe them. But before she could respond, he was gone.

So it was by chance that she found herself alone with him again. Well, not quite by chance. She had started going to the broom shed when she couldn't sleep. The memories it evoked helped her relax and lull her into a slumber on the oversized cushions.

Which was where she was in the early hours of an April morning, about a week into the summer term, when the door slowly opened and Theo walked in. She rose hastily and was so pleased to see him, she cried out his name with uninhibited warmth and affection.

A look of surprise crossed his face before it turned into one of familiar guardedness. His eyes flitted over her and settled on a spot over her right shoulder.

"Can. A. Man. Not get. Any fucking __peace__?" Theo seemed to growl agitatedly, before turning towards the door.

But before he could leave, Parvati found herself raising her wand and crying out two spells in quick succession. "Expelliarmus! Colloportus!"

Theo's wand sailed through the air and she caught it neatly in her hand just as the shed door locked into place. His lips parted in surprise. He knew she was good at charms and that there was no getting through her locking spell without magic.

Parvati was painfully reminded of another time, months ago now, when they had both been locked in a confined space together. The irony did not escape her that, whereas last time she would have given anything to get out of the cupboard and escape him, this time she had deliberately caused Theo to be trapped in with her.

"Patil," Theo said warningly. "Give me back my wand and unlock that door. Now."

"No," she said defiantly. "Not until you give me an explanation. For why you're been behaving like this."

His lips curled into a sneer. He looked down at the ground as he spoke.

"I told you. I'm not interested any more. Stop living up to your lion stereotype and being so __proud__ and dramatic about it. It's fucking tiresome. You were a piece of fun I've got bored off."

His words made her stomach turn but, again, Parvati could not believe them. She could tell by the way Theo's arm twitched and how he was avoiding eye contact with her, that there was a whole bubbling of emotions simmering under the surface of him.

His eyes flicked momentarily up to hers.

"Don't make me hurt you," he bit out between clenched teeth. "Just give me my wand and let me leave. You've seen what happens when I get angry. And I'm angry right now."

"I don't believe you'll hurt me," she said, aware that this wasn't the first time she'd had to convince him of the fact.

He raised his eyebrows and let out a low, incredulous chuckle. "You have no idea."

"I think I do. I think I do have an idea. I know you're not a danger to me, Theo."

He rolled his eyes and sighed exasperatedly, then stilled and studied her, as if making a decision. His eyes were haunted. It seemed like minutes before he spoke again.

"Then maybe this will convince you," he eventually said resignedly, and started unbuttoning his left shirt cuff.

He held her gaze, defiant and bold, as he rolled up his sleeve to reveal a black mark on his forearm, outlined in red, crusted blood, of a skull with a snake curling out of its mouth.

* * *

A/N: As ever, your comments are cherished and treasured.


	44. Marked

**A/N:**

I may have gone a tiny-teeny bit off canon in this chapter...but only a little bit, and hopefully it's worth it! :o)

* * *

 **C** **h. 44 Marked**

 _"It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."_

 _-_ Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

 **Parvati**

Parvati had never seen the expression on Theo's face before: it was defeated and somber and defensive all at once. Her stomach twisted into nauseating knots at the sight of the Dark Mark on his arm, but she did not believe he'd taken it willingly – there was too much she knew about him by now.

"It's – it's just a mark," she protested weakly as Theo lowered his arm, knowing how absurd her statement sounded.

"We both know that's not true, Parvati." His voice was bitter and accusing. "Power-hungry, dark and selfish to the core, remember? Guess I've proved you right."

Parvati felt a desperate sadness as Theo echoed her own words back at her.

"You know I don't think that anymore."

"Then what _do_ you think?" he asked bitterly.

"That you don't believe in pureblood supremacy," Parvati stated, her voice passionate with conviction. "Or that blood status matters at all. That you wish your father wasn't the person he was. That you can't _say_ it or _show_ it, but that you reject Voldemort and everything he stands for. That you're _good_."

Theo's eyes flickered at her last word – a chink in his defensive armour.

" _Good_?" he spat out derisively. "How so?"

"Oh, yes: logic, evidence. I know you love that," Parvati replied sardonically. "Here's a list for you: because of how you helped us – with the dittany and Snape's password. The information you gave us and how you warned us at the party –"

"I did that because of what I could get from it –"

"We both know that's Hippogriff-shit! And I'm not finished. Because my hand – it bled. It bled, and it hurt, when I was with you."

Theo frowned but some of the vitriol dissolved from his face.

"Isn't that a bad thing?" he grunted.

Parvati could hear the genuine curiosity in the question. She shook her head in response.

"Before we got the pheonix tears, it was aggravated whenever we did, or thought, anything against Voldemort. So, if it bled when I was with you it meant that what we were doing was something he would have despised. That what was happening between us – _is_ happening – is something he can't stand. And there's one thing – one emotion – he despises most amongst all others," Theo opened his mouth to speak but before he could, Parvati continued. She felt that if she didn't say this now, she may never do. "And – and because of this.'

Parvati raised her arm, brought to her mind her happiest memories and from the tip of her wand burst a flash of white light which morphed into a four legged, scampering animal. A dog, in fact, with large floppy ears. A spaniel.

Theo looked at it incredulously, his eyes wide in wonder as they followed Parvati's Patronus around the room.

"What does it mean?" His voice was small and awed, like a Muggle child who's just discovered magic is real. "They're the same. What does it mean?"

"I – I don't really know," Parvati answered honestly. "Except I know it does mean something. A connection. Something _good_."

As her Patronus faded into the dark, Parvati moved slowly towards Theo. When she reached him, she lifted up his left arm and traced the outline of the skull with the finger of her right hand, on which her own 'blood traitor' mark was still clear and evident.

"How can you bear to touch it?" Theo whispered, his voice thick. His arm started shaking slightly. Parvati looked up and was startled to see his eyes glistening.

"Because it's just a mark, Theo." She repeated her earlier statement and it didn't sound so silly this time. Both of them looked down at the black skull and snake, and the pinky-white words of 'blood traitor' that marked their respective skins. "People can mark us – with scars and with words – but it's up to us what meaning we allow that to have. We can choose not to be defined by it."

Theo let out an odd sound, a restrained kind of bark, and tears started to fall freely from his eyes. It was like something that had been pent up in him for years had finally been released, Parvati could feel it. She instinctively reached out and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him towards her in a tight hug, as his body started to convulse in wracking sobs.

They both slid awkwardly onto the cushions, and when Theo's sobs subsided to a more gentle cry, he started to talk.

He told Parvati about Dibbity dying and his father's Crucios. He told her about sneaking into his father's study and learning about the wolf blood that ran through his veins. It seemed like a dam had burst somewhere near his vocal chords when he told her that she was right, that he thought the idea of blood supremacy was flawed and _stupid_ , but that he'd had to live a lie for so many years, in the Slytherin dungeons and at home. He told her about Luna, in the forest with the Thestrals and then in the Malfoy cellar…

Parvati sat and listened all the while, occasionally squeezing him more tightly to her, or saying a word of acknowledgement or comfort, until Theo's words, and tears, ran dry. She felt a bubbling of complex feelings rise up in her, but stopped herself from crying her own tears. She knew it was important for Theo to see that she could bear his pain.

After Theo had finished talking, they sat quietly for a minute or so, before Parvati reached up and softly pressed her lips to his. A gesture that said she accepted everything he had told her.

She loved that the walls he had been hiding behind had finally come down, that he was letting her see, and know, all of him. It felt as if there was nothing, now, that stopped them understanding each other, wholly and completely. Except…

"And this, Theo," she said, tenderly running her finger along the snake burnt into his arm. "How – why did you get this?"

And again, Parvati listened quietly as Theo began to tell her how he had come to bear the mark of one of the darkest wizards known to magical kind.

xXx

 **Theo**

Voldemort's summons to Malfoy Manor came in the early hours of Easter Monday. Theo was woken by his father hammering on his bedroom door and calling out that the 'Dark Lord' had demanded the Nott's get to the Manor as soon as possible.

With his heart beating in alarm, Theo hurried out of bed and began to dress. As he was buttoning up his shirt, a flash of bright white light flew through his open window, swirled dizzyingly at the foot of his bed and finally formed the shape of a majestic eagle, which perched on the bed's rail. Daphne's Patronus.

"Theo," it began earnestly in Daphne's voice. "We've all been summoned to Malfoy Manor too. But I've come down with mild spattergroit – I'm unable to go. You said you were indebted to me for what I did during the duel with Flint. I'm claiming that debt now. I only ask this of you: when you go to the Manor, keep Astoria safe. Please. Do all you can to keep her from harm…"

Daphne's voice faded away as the eagle's form dissolved into nothing.

"Theo, we have to go! Now! We mustn't keep him waiting," Nott senior's voice called urgently.

Soon after, Theo and his father portkeyed to the Malfoy's, along with Astoria and her mother, Rhea. Theo learnt that the Greengrass patriarch was already at the Malfoy home. Narcissa appeared in the entrance hall and ushered the group towards the drawing room door, but stopped Theo at the threshold.

"Draco's in the kitchen," she said quietly, giving Theo a strained smile. "Why don't you go and wait with him in there for now?"

Theo nodded and made his way to the kitchen, relieved. He was thankful to avoid the presence of Voldemort for as long as possible.

The room was empty except for Draco, who had his hands clasped around the edge of the sink, his head bowed. He was taking shuddering, deep breaths, as if he was trying to stop himself from vomiting. He turned his head when Theo entered and gave a short nod of acknowledgement.

Theo had seen Draco in a bad state before, New Year's Day being one of them of course, but he was shocked by his appearance now. His forehead was slick with sweat, his skin was grey where it wasn't marred by tiny cuts, and his eyes were rimmed with purple circles.

"What's happened?" Theo demanded, his stomach turning queasily.

"Snatchers found Potter, Weasley and Granger," Draco's voice was hard and matter-of-fact. "They brought them here, but Potter's face was messed up so they weren't sure if it was him. They asked me to identify them but..."

"Did you?" Theo snapped the question out more harshly than he intended.

"I said I didn't know."

"But did you? Know?" Theo insisted.

"It was bloody obvious who Granger and Weasley were. And I'd know those annoying fucking green eyes anywhere."

Draco looked at Theo then, his eyes haunted but defiant. Something shifted in the air between them. The fact that Draco had lied about Potter and his friends' identities was the biggest admission of Draco's true loyalty that had passed between the two. Theo gave a sharp nod.

"Then what happened?" he asked.

Draco turned, leaned back against the sink and crossed his arms.

"They had the fucking sword of Gryffindor with them, which made Bellatrix absolutely batshit, so they put Potter and Weasley in the cellar, but –" Draco's voice cracked and he stopped, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Bellatrix isolated Granger for torture. She wanted to know where they'd found the sword."

Draco paused.

"How bad was it?" Theo asked gently.

"Pretty fucking bad," Draco's face twisted into a grimace. Looking down at his feet, as if talking to himself, he mumbled, "She wouldn't stop screaming. Granger. She wouldn't stop fucking _screaming_."

Draco looked at him then and there was something different about his eyes: a light had died in them. Theo knew Draco had seen his fair share of horrific sights in his young life, but it seemed something had irrevocably broken in him when he'd watched Hermione Granger being tortured.

Draco took a shuddering breath and spoke again. "So, confident they've nabbed Potter, they summon him. The Dark Lord. Greengrass did it. But Potter somehow managed to get our old house-elf to Apparate here on a rescue mission. It all ends up in this massive clusterfuck fight and they Disapparate away. Granger was barely conscious at the time. I don't know if she would have survived it..."

Theo felt a mixture of relief that the trio had escaped and dread because – "Greengrass summoned him? And then they got away?"

"Yep. He's in the drawing room now, mightily pissed off. With Greengrass in particular." Draco looked at Theo, urgency flitting across his face. "Is Daphne here?"

"No. She's ill – spattergroit."

Draco's shoulders relaxed slightly. "That's good. Because he uses people's loved ones as revenge. Particularly their children. That's what the whole thing with me was about, in Sixth Year. I know that now."

"But Astoria is. Here, I mean," Theo said gravely.

"Shit," Draco mumbled, just as Narcissa appeared in the doorway, wringing her hands nervously.

"Draco. Theo. You're wanted in the drawing room."

The fear Theo felt at that moment was like a physical assault. He tried to bury it, tried to squash it down, as he and Draco followed Narcissa out of the kitchen.

The drawing room of Malfoy Manor was a bloodbath.

The smell of blood and fear was overwhelming, and Theo had to force himself not to gag from it. There were three – no, four – bodies strewn on the floor and it seemed that Nagini had had free reign of them. Theo tried not to look too closely at their mutilated forms, but from what he did see, he didn't recognise them and assumed they were the snatchers that had caught Potter. Their blood was seeping slowly over the floorboards, coating them in a slick carpet of red.

Theo subtly scanned the room as he went to stand by his father. Voldemort was pacing slowly up and down in front of the fireplace. Aegeus Greengrass, Daphne's father, was kneeling on the floor in front of him, his head bowed. Snape stood just beyond Voldemort, by the mantelpiece, his expression grave. Theo noticed Pansy looking at him, trying to exchange a cold smile, but he made his eyes glide on and didn't acknowledge her.

"You have disappointed me _again!_ " Voldemort exclaimed. He seemed to be addressing the whole room. He gesticulated with his wand and Theo had to force himself not to flinch. "Letting them get away. Calling me unnecessarily. It _really_ does rather upset me, you see." Voldemort pointed his wand at Daphne's father, casting a spell that made the Greengrass patriarch's head jerk up violently so he had no choice but to look at his master. "Aegeus, how will you make this up to me?"

"Anything you ask, my lord," Greengrass responded with a shaking voice.

"Anything?" Voldemort cooed. "You have two daughters, yes?"

"Yes, but –"

"How old are they?"

"Sixteen and – and eighteen."

"And have you brought them here to meet me?"

"Daphne is ill, I'm afraid, my lord. Spattergroit. But Astoria is here."

Voldemort lifted his head and surveyed the room. "Bring her to me!" he commanded.

There was a shuffling from where Asotria was standing with her mother, as Antonin Dolohov pushed the young girl forward. She walked slowly to the fireplace and stood by her father. She wore a simple cotton summer dress, and her hair was in two plaits that fell down each of her shoulders. She was trembling.

"Kneel!" someone hissed at her, but as Astoria began to lower herself, Voldemort spoke.

"No, no, I would like to examine her!" He reached out his wand and poked it under Astoria's chin, using it to push up her face and giving her an assessing look.

"Would you like to be one of my followers, child?" Voldemort asked, his voice as smooth as velvet.

"I – I suppose so."

There was a ripple of whispers across the room and a strangled whimper from Rhea Greengrass. Voldemort chuckled. The sound made Theo's stomach churn.

"You do not sound very sure. Do you believe in my cause?"

Theo noticed Astoria's jaw clench determinedly and saw a fire in her eyes that would have belonged in a Gryffindor.

"Some of it," she said.

Theo cursed silently in his head. What the hell was the girl thinking? This was no time for principles, or for _honesty_ about those principles. Where the fuck had her snake gone? He was aware that Astoria had been protected by her older sister and parents, but had Daphne not taught her the right time for truth and the right time for lies? _Fuck_.

" _Some_ of it?" Voldemort repeated disdainfully. His voice was still calm but Theo knew there was a rage seething behind the red slits of his eyes.

Aegeus Greengrass was visibly shaking now. Others in the room stood tense, as if frozen by the exchange. They had all learnt to fear Voldemort's volatility.

He lowered his wand and gave Astoria an assessing look as his lips curled into an ominous smile. Daphne's voice echoed in Theo's mind: _I only ask this of you: keep Astoria safe. Please._

Voldmort tilted his head, contemplatively.

"So pure. Too young to have such confused views. Clearly, you have not been fulfilling your duties as a parent and my follower, Aegeus. Maybe it will be good for your youngest daughter to be taken away and live somewhere she can be taught the correct ideals, and to be... _nurtured_ to believe them unquestioningly."

"My lord, she is young, as you've said – " Greengrass started to protest.

"Silence!" Voldemort cried, flicking his wand at Aegeus in an apparent non-verbal Stupify. The man collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

"Macnair!" Voldemort called out, gesturing to the Death Eater who was standing by the piano. "Your previous charge is unfortunately no longer with you. Would you like to take care of this child? Come! See how you like her!"

Theo's gut twisted as Macnair come forward, his thin, greasy hair slicked back into a ponytail. He leered down at Astoria, reached out with a dirt-smeared hand and stroked his fingers down her cheek. He didn't stop there but continued, brushing his hand lightly over Astoria's small breasts. She let out a terrified whimper.

"I would love the pleasure of Re-parenting her, my lord, if that is what you wish."

"Yes...I think she would do well with you."

 _Please… Do all you can to keep her from harm_.

Something snapped in Theo and he found himself moving forward, dropping to his knees beside the unconscious form of Aegeus Greengrass and bowing his head. Blood seeped through the knee of his trousers: wet, sticky and still lukewarm.

"My lord, I request permission to address you?" Theo willed his voice to sound steady, and to his relief it did.

"Theodore –" Theo heard his father's voice, edged in panic. "Apologies, my lord, he is impulsive –"

"Hush now," Voldemort said to Nott senior. Then, addressing Theo, "What is it you wish to say?"

Theo swallowed. His throat felt like sandpaper.

"The girl is young. And foolish. But she has great promise. I can ensure she follows the correct path. I will do anything in my power to and will not disappoint you. She shows great talent and, as you have said, she is pure."

"So, you would like her as well?" Voldemort asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Yes, sir. I can ensure her uncompromising loyalty to you. I will take it as my personal responsibility."

"You will do anything, you say?"

"Yes, my lord." Theo had to force the words out. The panic that had led him to kneel before Voldemort was fading and was being replaced by an ominous dread.

"Hmm…I am very pleased with your father," Voldemort said contemplatively. Theo didn't dare look up and so kept his gaze on the wooden floorboards in front of him. A fresh pool of blood was slowly but relentlessly edging towards him. "He has been loyal and useful to me. And I have received good reports from Hogwarts about you, young Nott, on the whole. Severus informs me you became rather... _passionate_ towards the end of the last term. I admire strength and determination, young Nott, if such traits are used for the right purpose. If you take on responsibility of this girl, I need to know I have your unquestionable loyalty. Would I?"

"Of course, my lord," Theo lied.

"I will, of course, need to be absolutely certain of this."

Theo knew this had been coming and had been preparing his mind for it ever since he'd felt the wet stickiness of the snatchers' blood saturate his trousers. He mentally put into practice all he had learnt from Draco, forced up his Occlumency walls and pushed all memories and thoughts of Parvati behind them.

Voldemort pointed his wand at Theo's temple.

"Legilimens," he incanted softly.

It was as if cold fingers were rifling through his mind, icy cold fingers that burnt through his synapses. Images flashed into his consciousness: taking an I.S. badge from Amycus and pinning it to his school jumper, a book flying through the air and landing on the all-consuming flames of Alecto's fire, his wand arm achingly tense by his side as he watched fellow students get marked with the blood traitor curse, casting a Stupify at Michael Corner as he ran from the clearing in the Forbidden Forest...

Theo grimaced. His walls were weakening with the relentless strength of Voldemort's spell. His head throbbed in pain with the effort of keeping the dark wizard out, and cracks formed in his Occlumency walls. Memories of Parvati leaked through, but he could control which ones, to some extent. He allowed disjointed snippets, of his mocking tone and derisive comments, of selected times he'd kissed and touched her so, to Voldemort, it would look as if he'd been taking advantage, maybe even taking Parvati against her will.

Any hint at affection between them, at him betraying Voldemort's cause for her benefit, he thankfully managed to keep behind his walls. Affection and compassion was what Voldemort would be most suspicious of, what he would despise, and so Theo buried that deep inside himself. It's what he had been doing since a young age, in one form or another, and so he was well practised in it.

Finally, the dark wizard ceased his assault on Theo's mind.

Theo kept his head bowed, staring at a gap between the floorboards, where blood was seeping and gathering in a minute river of red. There was a silence, the only sounds being Theo's gasps as he caught his breath.

"It does, indeed, appear you are loyal to me. Snape has assured me of such. You are _virile_ as well, it seems," Voldemort stated with slight amusement in his voice. "What status is this girl I have seen in your memories?"

"A pureblood, my lord," Theo responded, trying to sound indignant, as if any other possibility would disgust him.

"Very good. Very good. Then you would be honoured to take my mark, child?"

Theo's stomach contents lurched to his throat. It was one of his worst fears, taking the mark of Voldemort. It would be confirmation that he was just like his father: rotten and dark, tethered to this embodiment evil for as long as either of them lived.

"It would be an honour, my lord." Theo tasted bile in his throat as he forced the lie out.

"Excellent..." Voldemort said softly, before speaking more loudly to the rest of the room. "Followers – we will have one more among our number this evening. Please assemble! Stand, young Theodore!"

Theo stood. It was an inelegant, jerky movement as his legs had stiffened. The Death Eaters were forming a circle around Theo and Voldemort, pulling the hoods of their black cloaks low over their heads and rolling up their left sleeves. They each held out their arm and pointed their wand at their mark. Theo caught sight of his father, whose mouth twitched up into what was the closest thing Nott senior got to smiling. This was possibly the proudest Theo had made him.

Theo had not been at a Marking Ceremony before. He'd heard what happened from Draco, but actually being at one was wholly different, of course. Especially considering he was the one that was about to be branded.

"Theodore, your left arm," Voldemort requested.

Theo could not stop trembling as he pushed up his left sleeve and held his arm out. His unblemished skin gleamed pale in the gloom of the Malfoy drawing room, as Voldemort pointed his wand at it.

"Begin!" Voldemort commanded the room.

All around him, the Death Eaters started chanting an incantation. Theo could not make out most of the words, except for one that seemed to be repeated over and over again: _Morsmordre… Morsmordre… Morsmordre..._

Then Voldemort himself started reciting something under his breath as green light emitted from the end of his wand. Theo instantly felt an intense burning sensation on his arm, which seemed to burrow down into his tissue, deeper into his bone marrow, and travel along his nerves to the rest of his body. The spot of skin at which Voldemort was pointing his wand flared an orange colour, as if it were kindling, and then turned black, as if burnt. Theo grimaced in pain as Voldemort moved his wand excruciating slowly, tracing the outline of a skull. The smell of rotting flesh reached Theo's nostrils, and he realised it was coming from his own arm.

The Death Eaters around them continued their incessant mantra, and it was when Voldemort had finished burning the outline of the skull onto his skin that Theo started to feel it: a strange connection, a kind of tethering, to the man – the monster – in front of him, but also to the people standing around him, as if the pain in his arm were multiplied by how many others also bore the mark.

Theo watched with his jaw tightly clenched, determined not to show any weakness, as the outline of a snake emerged from the mouth of the skull and slithered down his arm, before becoming still.

Finally, Voldemort lowered his wand and the room fell silent. "Congratulations, my child. You are now one of us."

"Thank you, sir," Theo said, swallowing back the bile now on his tongue.

He looked down at the mark on his arm, bold and black against his pale skin. He seemed to be bleeding around the edges, although the bright red of the blood was clotting quickly.

As the pain dissipated and he watched the blood turn to a dull crimson, Theo felt something inside him die.

xXx

"So you got this because you saved Astoria from – from that man – that _predator?_ " Parvati asked Theo now, in the gloom of the Hogwarts broom shed. "Theo, think about what that means. Think about what this _Mark_ means. When I got this," – she gestured to her 'blood traitor' mark – "I could have felt branded, _shamed_. But I refused to interpret it how they meant it to be read. To me, it's a sign that I went out of my way to help my sister. That I stood up for something I believed, despite the consequences."

Theo had not intended to tell Parvati about his mark. He had been drawn to the shed that night because he'd wanted to be in the place where the memories of her were plentiful and rich, when the thought of seeing the real, living her had felt like too much. He had been convinced that being branded with the Dark Mark would finally be the end of Parvati and him. That if she found out, she would be disgusted, horrified, that she would finally see that _they_ could never be.

He'd feared that he would have proven her right – that he _was_ dark, evil and power-hungry, as she'd said all those months ago.

But her acceptance of it – of him – and how she was able to see beyond the mark, meant all his resolve, all his doubts about being with her had finally dissolved away.

Since he had spilled all his secrets to her, Theo felt like a weight that had been pressing down on his heart had lifted and something was shifting and unravelling from it. Maybe she was right – maybe the Mark didn't have to mean that he was tainted, rotten, dark. Maybe it could mean something else. If Parvati believed it, maybe he could too.

Her hand moved again, and she now traced her fingers along the light red, criss-crossing lines on his right wrist.

"And these? They're the mark of an Unbreakable Vow, aren't they?" she asked gently.

Theo nodded.

"What was it, Theo?" Parvati whispered into the dark. "What was the vow you made?"

* * *

A/N: So yeah - things got a bit dark...

Your thoughts/comments/reviews/favs are, as ever, cherished and treasured.


	45. The Kiss

**Ch. 45 The Kiss**

 _ _'There had been a horrible incident the day before, when Hannah Abbott had been taken out of Herbology to be told her mother had been found dead. They had not seen Hannah since.' -__ Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince

* * *

 ** **Parvati****

"What was it, Theo?" Parvati whispered into the dark. "What was the vow you made?"

Theo looked up from where Parvati's fingers were still tracing the criss-crossed markings on his wrist. He blinked, impatiently brushed a remnant tear from his cheek and gave her that now-familiar calculating look, as if he were evaluating, weighing-up, deciding...

He shifted his gaze to the floor and took a deep breath before beginning to speak.

"My mother – she died when I was nine. But before that, for about a year, she'd gradually got frailer...more and more ill. It was a time when I didn't have any suppressants, because my father couldn't bear to acknowledge my...condition...it was just too shameful. It was never talked about. I didn't even know what it was then, I just thought it was me – that I was a monster, sullied and contaminated in some way.

"So every month, I'd have these rages, but my mother helped soothe me – just her words, her embrace, they'd usually do far more than a decent dose of wolfsbane ever has. But when she was ill, she was less able to do that. And one month, when she was bed-ridden, I got angry. My father had punished my brother, and the way he'd hurt him – it just triggered something in me. So I raged at my father. I went at him with my fists first, hitting and punching, and then I was performing accidental magic. At one point, fire even burst from my fingertips. Salazar only knows what would have happened if I'd had a wand. It took him – and me – by surprise. He ended up hurt, but not seriously.

"My father, wanting revenge and ultimate control, used it against me. He convinced my mother that I was wild, unmanageable, __dangerous__. She ordinarily wouldn't have been so taken in, but her mind was becoming weak by that point. He suggested a solution: for me to make an Unbreakable Vow. That I would never attempt to hurt my father ever again, by Muggle or magical means, that I would never raise my wand or my fists against him. Basically, I would never be able to defend myself against him. And – and that I would have to call Nott Manor my home until my father died. I would always have to live with him when not at Hogwarts. And that I would keep to this vow even after my mother's death."

Theo's voice had become more bitter as he spoke. He closed his eyes, shaking his head as if wanting to rid himself of the knowledge he was inparting. "Effectively, making me a prisoner, with my father an all-powerful guard. My mum agreed because, well, she was confused, not really thinking straight. She thought it would be the best for me. She was...she was great, my mum, always saw the best in people...but sometimes that blinded her to their faults, too."

Sorrow had risen in Parvati as Theo's tale had progressed. "But that was – that was so manipulative!" she exclaimed indignantly. "How did it work? Who bonded you?"

"I made the vow with my mother and my father bonded us. She – she said something about how it would give her peace of mind..." Through the gloom, Parvati saw that Theo's features were twisted into a tortured expression. "And I knew she was dying...I – I couldn't refuse her."

"And you were __nine__. Of course you couldn't refuse it! But does the vow still work if you were so young, and couldn't have really consented?" Parvati wished she knew more about Unbreakable Vows, but as they had been hard to test out, infamously secretive and somewhat rare, the research on them was sparse.

Theo gave a half-shrug and a rueful smile. "I haven't really wanted to find out...as shit as life has sometimes been, I've never wanted to purposely end it.."

"No…" Parvati instinctively put her arm around Theo and drew him to her. She would never want him to risk testing the Vow's magic either. "So, you can never stand up to your father? Never defend yourself? He has complete control over you?"

"Yep. He had wanted me to vow to always be loyal to pureblood supremacy, to never stand against it, but my mother seemed to find some lucidity at that point, said that I should be able to form my own beliefs. I think she genuinely thought that the vow I did make would give me an incentive to control myself, and hence protect me, and those around me. I think she did it because, in her confused state, she thought it was a way of keeping me safe."

"Well...I'm so glad you didn't end up making a vow about not ever betraying the pureblood cause or anything..." Parvati mused, kissing Theo tenderly on his forehead.

"Me too," Theo murmured, fiddling absentmindedly with a loose thread on Parvati's skirt. "But my father's so narcissistic, I don't think he's ever seriously considered his son would ever be a blood traitor…. That would have meant I'd never have known you. Not like I know you now. And I don't know what would've become of me if you hadn't come along, locking us in a bloody cupboard together."

"I've always meant to ask you," Parvati said softly. "Why were you in detention? That evening? You're an I.S member and a Slytherin, it was – and is – pretty hard to get detention."

Theo gave a small smile. "I wasn't in detention. Not really. Snape told Slughorn I was, but it was just a ruse really, so I could practise preparing my own suppressant potion –"

"Snape __knows__?"

Theo nodded. "For a while now, and he's been brewing and ensuring I get the potion – for years. But he said he was going to be away from school a lot this year, so it was important that I knew how to do it myself."

Parvati didn't know how to make sense of Snape's attitude...it almost seemed… __compassionate__...but 'compassionate' did not fit with Parvati's view of her Death Eater headmaster.

"It's nearly morning," Theo remarked. "You'd better be getting back. Don't want your dorm mates to wake up to you missing."

Reluctantly, Paravti pulled herself away from the warmth of Theo's chest and they both rose and made their way towards the door.

Just before they exited, Theo paused, as if remembering something. Turning to her, he said in a low voice, "Your mate, Longbottom. They're going after his Gran. He needs to watch his back."

* * *

 ** **Neville****

"Bring them in!"

It was a Dark Arts lesson and the seventh years had been told they would, once again, be practicing curses on those students that had received a detention in the last week or so.

There was shuffling from the back of the room as Blaise Zabini, Amycus' current 'helper,' brought in the victims from where they'd been waiting in the corridor outside. A murmuring rippled through the class and Neville reluctantly turned his head to watch as five students shuffled reluctantly up the aisle to the front of the room.

His heart stuttered when he saw that Hannah was one of them. He instinctively flinched, causing him to knock his ink pot with his elbow and the liquid to spill over the side. She was leading the group. Behind her were two third year Ravenclaws, who were also recent DA recruits, Anthony Goldstein and a fourth year Gryffindor Neville didn't know.

"Miss Abbott, I would have thought you'd learnt your lesson in not following orders from what happened to you __mother!__ " Amycus exclaimed in a nauseatingly triumphant tone. "You're in detention for refusing to perform the Imperious in last week's class. Come! Here – you can be first!"

Amycus gestured for Hannah to take a place at the front of the class, whilst the rest of the group were ushered to the side of the room. Hannah's her jaw was clenched tightly but there was a calm defiance about her.

"Right, let's see. Who could do with some practice?" Amycus scanned the room and Neville instinctively lowered his eyes and slouched down in his seat, wishing he was invisible – or had taken shrinking potion, like Hannah had talked about. But it was as if his effort to hide himself had made him even more noticeable. "You! Longbottom! Yes, you definitely need to get over whatever __block__ you have with the Cruciatus Curse! Come!"

Neville's stomach contents seemed to rise to his throat as he gingerly stood up and made his way to the front of the classroom, taking a spot facing Hannah. They all knew this routine by now: where the attacker stood, where the victim was 'placed'. The feeling of the air in the few feet that separated them, that was often heavy with apprehension, malice, guilt or remorse, depending who the attacker and victim were.

Neville stood, his eyes on a spot on the floor in front of him, painfully aware of the wand in his hand, in contrast to Hannah's lack of one.

"Mr Longbottom. Please attempt the Cruciatus Curse on Miss Abbott," Amycus requested calmly as if he'd asked for Neville to perform a simple protection charm, not one of the most feared and infamous curses known to magical kind.

Neville didn't move, his wand arm remained tense by his side, but he did wrench his eyes from the floor to look up at Hannah. She was gazing back at him and their eyes locked. Her hair fell like curtains on either side of her face and her mouth curled up into a melancholic, reassuring smile.

He knew what she was communicating with that expression: she was giving him permission to cast the curse. She was saying that she understood why he'd have to do it and would forgive him for rendering her wretched from an agonizing pain which would rip through her body.

Neville had been in this position before, of course, had been asked to perform various curses on his fellow students. And often he'd complied, sometimes even with the first years that had found their way into detention, knowing it would be worse for both of them if he didn't. But he had always refused to perform the Cruciatus Curse.

Having lived with the consequences of the curse nearly all his life, knowing the invisible but devastating scars it could render, Neville had sworn to himself that he would __never__ use it on anyone. And so he hadn't, much to Amycus' displeasure. It had meant he'd been a victim of it more often than his peers, and it was something that was starting to mark him out from everyone else.

Now, facing Hannah, refusing to perform the curse yet another time was one of the easiest decisions he'd had to make. The thought of deliberately causing Hannah pain was so unthinkable to him it was almost laughable.

He looked into the hazel of Hannah's eyes and it was as if Amycus, the other students and the classroom, faded away. All he was aware of was her, and how she made him feel: safe, accepted, understood. That time on the Astronomy Tower was just one time out of many when she had made him feel such a way. Each time he was close to her, it was like he was coming home – to somewhere comforting and secure and constant.

But there was something else he was feeling too: an urgent, powerful desire to reach out and touch her. He'd felt it before, but hadn't really acknowledged it until now. Not truly, not properly. He wanted to feel what it would be like to run his fingers through her hair, if her skin was really as smooth as it looked, what she might taste like if he–

Then, the realisation hit him with the force of a stunning spell: was this what love was? He knew he'd liked Hannah for, well, it had seemed like forever, but was this powerful connection, this want to be near her, the unique way she made him feel – was this __love__? Neville felt something unusual rise in him, a kind of swelling of happiness, at the realisation that he might be feeling this __thing__. Well, maybe love was a bit extreme...maybe….but he certainly liked her, liked her a __lot__. Then the happiness grew into something else, something a part of his mind knew was quite dangerous, given the circumstances: a feeling of invincibility.

Without quite knowing what he was doing, Neville took a step towards Hannah. He noticed her flinch slightly, no doubt preparing for the curse, but instead of raising his wand, he reached out, cupped her jaw in his hand, bent down and pressed his lips to hers in a kiss.

In that moment, there was only Hannah: the feel of her skin against his hand and the taste of her on his lips. He realised, to his delight, that she was pressing her lips back to his, but then–

"Impedimenta!"

Neville found he'd been lifted from the floor and was flying through the air before landing on his back with a painful thump a few feet from where Hannah remained standing.

He was vaguely aware of the sounds of clapping and a smattering of cheering from some of the students in the room, but then he noticed that Amycus' face was contorted in fury.

"What," the teacher spat out, "was that display?"

"I'm not doing it," Neville murmured, somewhat unnecessarily.

"Sectumsempra!" Amycus flicked his wand violently at Neville.

Neville's body was wrenched in pain, although it was a different kind from the Cruciatus Curse. Whereas the latter felt all-consuming, as if all your tissues, bones, nerves were on fire, Neville now felt sharp, localised pains in various areas of his body.

Then the blood appeared.

It poured through his school shirt, deep gashes in his legs became apparent as his trousers turned crimson, and he blinked as something warm and thick dripped down his forehead and into his right eye. He brushed it away and noticed that his hand was smeared in red. He felt it everywhere – down his cheek, his neck, in his shoes – the warm trickle of the red liquid that gave him life bleeding out of him.

His heart clenched as his gaze alighted on Hannah's face. She looked shocked and panicked. He attempted to rise from the floor, in an attempt to reassure her, but the room suddenly span dizzyingly so he lay back down, and was vaguely aware of the screech of Amycus' voice.

"Take him away – get him out of my sight – you do it, Abbott. I don't want to see anymore of either of you today! Just go! But not to the hospital wing, he doesn't deserve the attention of Pomfrey!"

Neville remembered the next hour or so in fragments. He was vaguely aware of his body becoming lighter, in what he thought must be a part-levitation charm of some sort, and of firm but gentle hands supporting him down the aisle of the classroom.

Then there was a blur of Hogwarts corridors, and staircases, and comforting murmurings in his ear, interspersed with moments of blackness. He remembered looking down at himself, noticing his clothes were saturated in blood… then he was being lowered down on cushions – familiar cushions, in a place that felt safe – they were in the Room of Requirement.

He realised he was seeping blood, that it was soaking into the cushions under and around him. He wondered how one person could have so much blood in them…there would be nothing left soon, surely, he thought… Is this how people bled to death? He imagined himself shrivelling up like a dried prune… but he couldn't die now, because Hannah was here with him, her face was looming over him, etched in anxiety, and he needed to tell her something, something important he'd just worked out...what was it? Oh yes, he'd realised he might love her, that was it, that's what he needed to tell her, before he died, he had to tell Hannah he loved her...

Her cheeks were damp – why were they damp? Was she crying? Why would she be crying? He needed to help, he needed to make her feel better… maybe he could kiss her tears away… The thought of her being upset caused Neville to hurt, even though he was hurting so much already...

She was frowning now with a look of fierce concentration, staring down at his chest, her wand in her hand. To his surprise, he realised that his shirt was open and he was no longer wearing his trousers, and felt a flood of embarrassment that he was so naked in front of Hannah, although it wasn't like she could really see him because there was so much blood everywhere…

Hannah started murmuring an incantation. It was really rather beautiful, her voice sounded like she was singing. He wanted to tell her how lovely it was…and there was something else that he needed to tell her, wasn't there? He hoped he could remember it because it felt like the most important knowledge he'd come across…

But Merlin, everything hurt so much, it made his head hazy and stomach sick and he couldn't form any words, had no idea how to go about the mechanisms of speaking…

But then something was happening: a delicious, soothing sensation rolled over his body, as if he'd had a thousand daggers buried in it and someone had taken them out and sealed all the wounds. It was such a relief...maybe he could sleep now...yes, sleep sounded like a really good idea...and he was consumed by a deep blackness.

* * *

Neville blinked his eyes open, his heart stuttering in alarm and his hand instinctively grappling for his wand, not knowing where he was.

"It's okay," a soft voice said, and Hannah's face appeared, taking up all of his vision. He immediately felt calmer, his body relaxing. "You've been asleep for a couple of hours. Amycus – he cursed you with Septumsempra. I brought you here – to the ROR."

Neville glanced around as memories flooded back to him of how he came to be in the Room of Requirement. The place was still empty except for the two of them. He looked down at himself: he was dressed again, albeit somewhat haphazardly, and his clothes were now stained the colour of rust.

"I – I tried to clean them," Hannah explained apologetically. "But the blood wouldn't come out properly."

Neville remembered Hannah's beautiful, singsong incantation and the relieving feel of his wounds healing. "You – helped me. Healed me. Thank you."

He attempted to sit up but felt dizzyingly light headed again, and automatically slumped back down.

"Don't try and get up... I performed some healing charms that Padma taught us. They've seemed to work but – you've lost so much blood, Neville," Hannah frowned anxiously. "Terry came in here a while ago, between his lessons. He said he and Michael should be able to brew a blood replenishing potion by this evening, but they need some ingredients from Slughorn's private stores…"

"Right, well, there's no need for that," Neville said, although he wasn't sure how convinced he was of what he was saying. "I'm sure I'll be alright without the potion…just need to rest…shouldn't you be in lessons?"

Hannah shook her head dismissively. "It's just Herbology. Sprout will let me off. You should keep lying down, so your legs are above your heart…" Neville nodded, placating Hannah, not wanting to upset her by being a bad patient. "Can I look at the wounds?" she asked tentatively.

Neville suddenly felt rather embarrassed, then realised how ridiculous that was, considering Hannah had already seen him practically naked. He gingerly opened his shirt and they both looked down at where three deep, red diagonal gashes marred his chest. They still looked like open wounds but were not bleeding, at least.

As Hannah tenderly ran her fingers along the edges of Neville's wounds, they both followed her movements with their eyes. Neville's nerves tingled delightfully at her touch.

"They should heal properly with a bit of time... that was a powerful curse Amycus cast," she said gravely.

Once she appeared satisfied with her assessment, she shifted and moved so she was lying down next to him. Neville noticed how Hannah's hair settled around the cushions by her head, and he wished there was a window in the room, because he loved how Hannah's hair shimmered when the sun hit it. And just as he was thought it, a ray of light beamed across the room and landed where they lay. They both looked around to see that a window had formed, high up on one of the walls of the room.

"Nice touch," Hannah commented dryly, smiling gently.

Dust motes danced in the new beam of light. Neville didn't think he'd been in the Room of Requirement with just one other person, and he was struck by how quiet and still it was.

Hannah's eyes flicked up to his, and his heart beat faster as he felt himself get lost in the liquid amber of her eyes. They lay together in silence, their bodies close but not touching, for several moments.

"Why did you do it, Neville?" Hannah asked eventually, with gentle curiously, and Neville assumed she was talking about his ridiculous, reckless attempt to kiss her. "Out of all the things you could have done, that – that was the thing that would have wound Amycus up the most…"

 _ _Love. Love possessed me,__ the words sprang to Neville's mind as he remembered with a jolt the realisation he'd come to as he'd stood facing Hannah in the Dark Arts classroom. But, knowing how ridiculous that sounded, Neville bit back the words. He'd messed up – again – putting them both in danger, not to mention he'd probably really embarrassed Hannah, the way he had lunged forward and kissed her in front of the whole class.

"I don't know," he mumbled. "Just imagining you in that much pain made me realise how...how awful that would be and I...it just happened...I'm sorry."

He knew it was an inadequate explanation, but he'd never been good with words. Hannah's eyes burrowed into his, as if trying to find something there.

"And there I was, thinking you might never make a move," she said, her face breaking into a grin and humour dancing in her eyes.

And Neville remembered, with hope rising in him, how, before he had been ripped backwards from her, Hannah had started to kiss him back. He lay, rendered immoveable with anticipation and hope, as Hannah leaned towards him and pressed her lips to his.

He kissed her back, of course, and there was no one to fling them apart with an Impedimenta Curse this time, so the kiss deepened and Neville surrendered to it, let it consume him - the touch Hannah's lips, the taste of her, the summer scent of her hair...

Sometime later, Neville became precariously lighted-headed again, so he laid back on the cushions, and they started to talk.

"I know you were in the DA before, in fifth year, but this year you've seemed so much more…" Neville faltered, trying to find the right word. "Determined. Ginny told me about her first Muggle Studies lesson – how you questioned Alecto."

Hannah smiled sadly and shrugged. "That wasn't much."

"Yes, it was," Neville objected. "Of course it was. It gives people hope when we stand up to them. And that's what you did. It's like you came back to Hogwarts ready to fight."

There was a pause as Hannah seemed to be thinking through what Neville had said.

"I suppose I did. When my mother was killed, I – I had to stay at home to look after my younger sister, Eloise. She should be coming to Hogwarts next year, she turned eleven over the Easter holidays. I'd been telling her about Hogwarts for years. She'd got so excited about it. Until this year," Hannah's voice hardened. "I'm not having her come to the Carrows' Hogwarts. When I came back this year, I was determined to make Hogwarts the school I used to love, and if that ultimately means having You-Know-Who defeated, then that's what I'm gonna try and help do."

Neville paused, taking in all Hannah had said.

"Last year must have been a shit year for you," Neville reflected, cringing inwardly at what an understatement he'd just uttered, and instinctively reached out, squeezing her hand in his.

"Yeah..." she agreed. "But I know I'm not the only one to not have both their parents around."

Neville felt the softness of Hannahs' palm as he interlocked his fingers with hers. She opened her mouth to speak before closing it again, as if deciding something. Alarmingly, tears started to glisten in her eyes, and finally she spoke.

"It was my father, Neville," Hannah's voice was shaking.

"What?" Neville asked, confused. "What was your father?"

"Who killed my mother," Hannah explained. Neville wasn't sure if he'd heard right. He understood the words but their meaning just didn't – couldn't – make sense, "It was my father. My father killed her."

* * *

A/N:

Thanks to Rachael and IKEAwhatyoudidthere for their alpha and beta help!  
As ever, your faves, reviews and thoughts are cherished and treasured.


	46. Fight and Flight

**Ch. 46 Fight and Flight**

 _'There had been a horrible incident the day before, when Hannah Abbott had been taken out of Herbology to be told her mother had been found dead. They had not seen Hannah since.' -_ Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince

* * *

 **Neville**

"What – how – your _father_?" Neville was aware that it wasn't the most articulate response, but he was still reeling from Hannah's words. He hadn't heard much about Hannah's father, but none of what he'd heard had been bad, so what she'd said just didn't make any sense to him.

Tears flowed freely from Hannah's eyes.

"It was their way of punishing him. The Death Eaters. You know my father is from an old wizarding family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight? Some of the other pureblood families didn't like it when he married my mother, a Muggle-born, but he did it anyway. He loved her. Then, when You-Know-Who rose again, they kept coming to him – his followers – asking my father for their loyalty. They said they would forgive my father's mistake in marrying my mother if he fought alongside them. But he refused, of course. He kept refusing and it made them – made You-Know-Who _–_ angry.

"Then, last year, they came to him again. Rodolphus LeStrange and Walden Macnair. Saying he had one last chance. He still refused. I think maybe he hadn't imagined how awful they could be," Hannah paused, looking away from him, but Neville felt her grip on his hand tighten. She was squeezing it so tightly it was painful. She took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing.

"So they Imperius'ed him. And made him strangle my mother…" Hannah lowered her head and whispered, "You know, it takes several moments to successfully strangle someone. And they struggle – a person really _struggles_ – with all that's in them... They made him look her in the eyes when he was doing it, so it was the last thing she saw. They made it so he could remember it too. And Eloise –" Hannah finally broke down, and finished through a wracking sob, "they made Eloise watch."

Hannah's story turned Neville's stomach so much, he felt like he might vomit. He swallowed the rising bile, and felt the acid burn the back of his throat. "I'm so sorry."

His words felt inadequate, useless, pitiful. But they were all Neville had. He summoned his strength and pulled Hannah towards him, holding her until her tears subsided.

"That's why I didn't come back last year. My father….he – he didn't cope with it well – the guilt and the grief. He found it hard to live with himself. He couldn't forget the memory of looking in her eyes as he made the light die from them …he took to drinking a lot of firewhiskey. I had to stay home to look after him and my sister..."

"How – how is he now?" Neville asked.

Hannah smiled plaintively, her cheeks damp with tears. "Better. I'm not sure if he's completely forgiven himself, but he's stopped drinking, and is able to look after Eloise again. After Dumbledore's death and the Ministry's decree about compulsory attendance at Hogwarts, we all knew I had to come back to school. And I think he knew that if I wasn't around to look after him, he'd have to step up and be there for Eloise...so, over the weeks that followed, he managed to pull himself out of the hole he'd gotten into."

"That's – that's good," Neville said encouragingly. Again, his words felt useless. "You're so strong, Hannah, for dealing with all of that. I'm – I'm sorry that happened to you."

Hannah gave him another sad smile. "I'm sorry for what happened to your parents too."

There seemed to be no more words to say after that, and so they lay in each others arms, hoping that Terry and Padma would soon come with the blood replenishing potion Neville so desperately needed.

* * *

 **Parvati**

Parvati sat in Muggle Studies, staring at, but not seeing, the scratchings on the desk in front of her, scratchings of some no-doubt long-forgotten Hogwarts romance: _D loves H_. Alecto's lecture on 'Muggle-born Diseases' was a muffled drone in the background of her awareness, because she was lost, yet again, in thoughts of Theo.

Things between them had been different since he'd shown her his mark. Different in a really good way. The guardedness in his eyes and face that had been there since she'd known him had melted away. It was like the nervous energy that had previously thrummed from him whenever they were together had dissipated and things felt...easier...more relaxed...as if they'd previously been a muddied river between them that had turned clean and clear, and pure.

On the day that Amycus had sliced Neville open like a furious butcher, Theo had hovered around the entrance to the Great Hall just before dinner. As Parvati had made her way towards the large oak doors, he had subtly gestured for her to follow him. They had crept behind a suit of armour nestled in an alcove under a stairway and he'd thrust a cotton bag at her.

"Here. They're ingredients. For a blood replenishing potion I'm guessing Longbottom is going to need."

"Thank you," Parvati had smiled broadly and pecked him on the lips.

Instead of becoming cagey and guarded at the exchange, as he would have done before, Theo had smiled, his shoulders relaxed. "No worries."

It had been, for once, a purely genuine interaction. There'd not been any pretence that it was anything other than Theo helping her - helping _them,_ in fact. And, to Parvati, it had felt wonderful.

Terry had managed to brew the replenishing potion that evening and Neville had, to everyone's relief, made a good recovery. The DA had then had a debate about whether it was safe for Neville to return to the school, or stay in the ROR and lie low for a while. Some of them had commented that the Carrows seemed to be getting more and more volatile and unpredictable.

But Neville had insisted on going back into the school. "I'm not going to run and hide from them! What kind of message would it give to others if I did that?" he'd proclaimed.

So he'd returned to the Gryffindor Common Room, and to lessons, but everyone felt on edge, as if waiting for something to happen.

 _Parvati! Parvati!_

Padma's anxious voice was suddenly ringing through Parvati's mind.

 _Padma?_ She silently answered her twin.

 _Parvati! They're coming for Neville. Death Eaters. In the school._ Now! _He needs to get away!_

Parvati didn't wait to find out how on earth Padma would know such a thing. She instantly reached for some parchment and a quill, and scribbled a note: _They're coming for you. Death Eaters. Run, hide. Now! Padma._ She passed the missive behind her to Seamus, who slid it across his desk to Neville.

Parvati watched intensely as Neville opened it. He frowned as he read it, before looking up at her questioningly. She nodded imperceptibly in response, her eyes wide and earnest, trying to silently emphasise the truth of the message, and made an abrupt shooing motion with her head, as if saying: _Go! Get out of here!_

Neville raised his hand, with the intention of excusing himself, Parvati assumed, just as two men strode into the room. They wore black cloaks and had wands clasped in their hands. The younger looking one had straggly fair hair which fell down to his shoulders; his companion had cropped, dark hair. Parvati recognised them from old 'wanted' posters: Thorfinn Rowle and Antonin Dolohov

Alecto halted her lecture mid-sentence, and looked at the men in surprise, her eyebrows raised questioningly.

"Apologies for the interruption, Professor Carrow," Rowle said gruffly, as he held out an identification card for Alecto to inspect. "We've come from the Ministry to speak with Mr Neville Longbottom. We understand he is in this class?"

Uneasy fidgeting and disconcerted mutterings rippled through the class.

"Of course. We are always happy to cooperate with Ministry business," Alecto simpered. "Mr Longbottom is just over there." She gestured to where Neville sat.

Rowle moved towards Neville but Seamus, who was sat between Neville and the aisle, stood up, his wand held tightly in his hand, and squared his shoulders.

"What do you want with him? Where are you taking him?" he demanded defiantly.

Rowle's eyes flicked to Seamus' wand and he paused, as if thinking. As he was doing so, Parvati noticed Dolohov make his way round the edge of the classroom, so he was on Neville's other side. Without quite realising what she was doing, Parvati slowly rose from her seat, clutching her wand.

"Mr Longbottom, you're to come with us," Rowle said. "There's nothing to worry about, we'd just like to ask you some questions about your grandmother's whereabouts–"

"Expelliarmus!" Seamus cried out at Rowle, at the same time as Seamus' intended victim yelled,

"Stupify!" and aimed his wand at Neville.

As a result of Seamus' spell, Rowle's wand sailed through the air just as he cast his stunning spell, which meant the curse only skimmed Neville's arm, although it caused him to stagger backwards into Dolohov, who reached out his hands to grab Neville and–

"Impedimenta!" Lavender shouted and Dolohov was flown away from Neville and landed on the floor a few feet away.

Parvati noticed that Alecto had her wand out then but it was as if Lavender's curse was a cue for chaos to break out in the room. She, Parvati, Seamus and the other DA members in the class all started aiming various hexes at the two men, who had since got to their feet. Rowle still seemed to be scrabbling for his wand. Other students in the room ducked under tables for cover, whilst a few others – Crabbe, Goyle and Flint being the more enthusiastic ones – started joining the fight on the side of the Death Eaters.

Neville started to scramble past tables, chairs and people to get out of the classroom, as Parvati aimed her wand at Dolohov. "Petrificus –" she started to cry, but something – a curse – hit her on the shoulder and she fell sprawling to the floor.

Her ears were ringing with a high pitched noise and her vision was momentarily blurred. When she could focus again, she saw that Rowle had raised his wand to her, about to cast another curse, but a wisp of red light travelled through the air and seemed to dissolve around his head. The man's eyes glazed over, and he lowered his wand, shaking his head as if trying to clear it.

The interruption had given Parvati enough time to scramble away and duck behind a desk at the back of the classroom to shield herself. She looked back to where she thought the red light had come from and saw Theo casting a stunning curse at Seamus, which missed by about a foot. The Confundus hex was starting to be Theo's signature move, Parvati thought dryly.

Parvati looked to the door of the classroom, just a metre or so from her, to see Neville crouched there, looking back at the chaos and disorder with alarm. What was he still _doing_ there?

"Go Neville, run!" Parvati shouted at him desperately.

Neville's eyes darted to hers. "I cant leave you guys to –"

"Yes, you can! They don't want us, they want _you! Go!_ "

Neville gave her one last, tortured look, before finally turning and running from the room.

Relieved, Parvati raised her head over the desk she was hiding behind, pointed her wand at Dolohov and yelled, "Levicorpus!"

* * *

 **Neville**

Neville didn't pause to see the result of Parvati's hex. He ran from the classroom and down several corridors, aiming to get to the stairs that led to the seventh floor, and hence the Room of Requirement. Getting out of the castle didn't seem an option – all the exits were still guarded by Dementors.

He rounded a corner and skidded to a halt as he noticed a man standing at the foot of the stairs to the seventh floor. He recognised him from the battle at the Ministry: Yaxley. Neville swore under his breath, spun on the spot and started running in the other direction. As he turned another corner, he noticed yet another cloaked figure at the end of the next corridor.

 _Shit - how many_ were _there in the school?_

He had no choice but to hurry down the stairs that led to the basement level. Somewhere near the kitchens, he sped round a corner and collided into something – or someone. Pushing the person aside, he was about to keep running but a familiar, honeyed scent and flash of golden hair made him pause.

"Neville!" Hannah cried, looking at him frantically. "Thank Merlin you're okay!" she exclaimed and hugged him so tightly he felt the echoes of the stunning spell in his arm. "We were in Charms, but Snape said something about them coming for you, Padma told Parvati and I came to –"

"Hannah - the castle's _crawling_ with Death Eaters - I need to get out of here!"

She seemed to process this information with lightning speed. "Our common room," she stated determinedly. "It's the nearest place – they wouldn't think to look for you in there, at least not for a while. Then we can get you to the ROR."

Neville didn't think the Hufflepuff Common Room sounded the safest place to hide, given the circumstances, but he realised he didn't have much choice. He let Hannah grab his hand and pull him along the corridor. They came to a halt by a shadowy recess just beyond the entrance to the kitchens, where a pile of huge barrels stacked lengthways on their side.

Puzzlement mixed with Neville's rising anxiety as he watched Hannah give the lid of one of the barrels, which was about the same size as the Fat Lady's Portrait, a succession of rhythmic taps. It then opened and Neville followed Hannah inside it, down a sloped tunnel and into a round, low-ceilinged room, reminiscent of badger's set. Thankfully, the Hufflepuff Common Room was empty – the school was still in the midst of lessons.

"Through here," Hannah commanded, and strode to an arched wooden door leading off the common room.

The room beyond was a cosy dormitory, decorated in black and various shades of yellow, the beds all neatly made with patchwork quilts. Hannah guided them to a bed and, as they sat down on it, Neville started to take in the random witches' paraphernalia that was scattered about the beds, tables and floor. This must be a girls' dorm and he must be sitting on Hannah's bed. He had never been in a girl's room, let alone a dormitory before, and he found himself blushing.

"How come I can get in here? The Gryffindor boys can't get in the girls' dorm," and Neville explained about the jinxed stairway.

"There are some jinxes that can stop people getting in, but the girls whose dorm it is can control them. We can turn them off if we want...maybe the Hufflepuff's are deemed more trustworthy than the Gryffindors?" Hannah suggested playfully, but then her tone turned serious. "I probably have to head back to Charms soon. You need to hide...maybe under the bed? And do a Disillusionment Charm. And...and we just have to hope that they don't search here."

Neville nodded; he couldn't come up with a better idea. As he scrambled under Hannah's bed, he remembered something.

"How did you know?" he asked. "That they were after me? You said _Snape_ said something?"

"Yes!" Hannah said, as she waved her wand over him, reinforcing Neville's Disillusionment Charm with her own magic. "I was in Charms, Snape was covering for Flitwick...I don't know why. And Snape was wandering around, checking our work, making snide remarks like he usually does. And when he remarked on Ernie's charm, which had gone a bit wrong – he said: 'Never mind, MacMillan, you can never be as clumsy as Longbottom,'" – Hannah did an alarmingly good impression of Snape's sneering tone – "then he leaned in so that only Padma and me could hear, and said 'but we don't need to worry about Longbottom anymore, they're coming to take him away. _Right now, in fact_.'

"It was weird, it was like he was talking to himself but at the same time wanted us to hear. So then I could tell Padma was mind-talking to Parvati, and I asked to leave, to go to the toilet. I just – I just wanted to go and try and warn you myself. I didn't think Snape would let me go – he can be quite unpredictable with that kind of thing – but he seemed distracted, and – and did. So then I was running down the corridor and bumped into you, thank Merlin."

"He probably couldn't resist gloating about the fact they were coming for me," Neville concluded glumly. He looked at Hannah, but now that he was near-invisible, she was gazing at a point over his right shoulder, so he reached out to take her hand instead. "I'll move tonight. To the Room of Requirement. I think the others were right – it's time for me to disappear."

* * *

As Neville lay under Hannah's bed, he desperately hoped that Hannah was right and that the Hufflepuff girls' dormitory was the last place the Death Eaters would look for him. His heart started pounding when, about half an hour after he'd run from his Muggle Studies lesson, he heard voices outside in the common room.

Moments later, the door of the dormitory burst open and the muffled voices were suddenly clear.

"Really, I must insist, you _cannot_ go in the girls' dormitory! Males are forbidden!"

Neville instantly recognised the indignant tones of Professor Sprout. He shifted slightly so the door was in his eyeline and he could see her muddied, brown shoes in the doorway, and beyond them, two pairs of black leather boots. Death Eaters.

Neville listened, silently re-casting his Disillusionment Charm, whilst Sprout insisted that males could not enter the dormitory unless they wanted to be subjected to a myriad of ancient magical hexes and a very unpleasant fate. Neville noted with admiration how convincing Sprout sounded.

" _I_ will go in and search," she declared. "You can watch from _here_."

As Sprout strode into the room, Neville held his breath as he waited to see what the two black boots in the doorway would do. Remarkably, and to his relief, they stayed put. He followed Sprout's brown shoes as they went over to the window and watched as the bottom of the curtains were brushed aside, before Sprout walked to the nearest bed and peered under it.

When she finally got to Hannah's bed, which was furthest from the door, Neville stayed stock-still, willing himself not to move. As Sprout's head came into view in his peripheral vision, inches from his body, he kept his gaze straight ahead, locked on the slats on the underside of Hannah's bed. She paused for far longer than was probably necessary and Neville was convinced she could make out his blurry outline. But then she rose from her crouched position, and looked into the cupboard by Hannah's bed.

Then, in a quiet, almost inaudible voice, she spoke, as if talking to herself.

"They'll search most of the castle but should be gone by the evening. Do keep safe, Mr Longbottom. I don't want to lose my best Herbology student."

As Sprout moved away to look under the other beds, Neville let out a long, slow breath, feeling a rush of gratitude and affection for his favourite teacher. She made a show of looking in the other nooks and crannies in the room, before returning to the door.

"Nobody there, as I expected, especially not any _boys!_ " she reported, before slamming the door shut and leaving Neville alone once more.

* * *

Neville had been hungry before, of course. He had often felt his stomach rumble towards the end of the lesson just before lunch and there had been numerous occasions when he'd started daydreaming about roast chicken and potatoes by the time dinner at Hogwarts came round. But after nearly thirty hours in the Room of Requirement with no food, and seeing nothing of the others, he realised he'd previously had no idea what true hunger really felt like.

Neville had hidden in Hannah's dorm until late in the night, long after the Death Eaters had left the castle, and then crept to the Room of Requirement. As soon as the room's door had shut behind him, a wave of relief swept over him – he instantly felt safe.

The next morning, he'd heard on Potterwatch that, to his relief, his Gran had managed to escape the Death Eaters too. Neville had grinned to himself as he thought of how she'd no doubt taken them by surprise. She was tougher than she looked, his gran. People always underestimated her.

But two days and a night had now gone by without Neville seeing any of the other DA members, and his worry, along with his hunger, had reached an almost agonising peak. The pains in his stomach and the aching longing for food was all-consuming. He had begun to feel light-headed and was finding it hard to concentrate. All his mind seemed capable of doing was to curse Gamp's law and fantasise about various meals.

Thankfully, a drinking fountain had appeared a couple of hours after he'd entered the room – a brass tap in the shape of a phoenix had emerged from the wall – and so he hadn't had to suffer the miseries of thirst. An array of plants had also appeared and it made Neville feel more at home – comforted and relaxed – knowing he had growing things to tend too. But now he was starting to begrudge the fact that none of them were edible.

He was lounging on the cushions, trying to read a Muggle book that had been saved from the Purification, and not get distracted by thoughts of his gran's beef stew, when he noticed a painting appear on the wall.

Curious, he went to investigate. The painting was of a pretty, blond haired girl, who was standing in what looked like a dark tunnel. She smiled kindly at Neville, and he forced a smile in return, disappointed with the room for the first time. What good was a painting of a girl right now? Unless it was edible ... _was_ it edible?

But before he could discover the possible nutritional benefits of the portrait, the girl gestured to him with a 'come hither' motion. She started to walk down the tunnel and turned back after a few steps, as if checking that Neville was following her.

"How am I meant to follow you?" Neville asked, frustrated. "You want me to climb into the painting?"

The girl rolled her eyes and gave an amused smile, just as something rather odd happened. The picture came away from the wall on three sides, swinging open like a door, much like the Fat Lady's portrait. Neville let out a small sound of surprise as a _real_ dark tunnel was revealed behind the painting's frame.

Clasping his wand, Neville climbed up into the passageway. It was big enough for him to walk through if he stooped a bit.

"Lumos," he murmured and the tunnel was illuminated, not that there was much to see: damp stone walls on either side of him and nothing but impenetrable darkness in front.

He started walking. And kept walking. He'd probably been in the tunnel for about half an hour when he thought, not for the first time, that maybe he should turn back. If he'd judged his distance and direction correctly, he would have left the boundaries of the school grounds long ago. But he had faith that the room would not have put him in danger, that whatever was at the end of this tunnel was surely going to help, not hinder, him. Finally, a dim light appeared in front of him and, as Neville approached it, he noticed what appeared to be the back of another painting, and that the light was coming from the crack at its edge.

With his wand held out in front of him, Neville slowly pushed at the back of the portrait and let out a small, startled cry when he saw what was beyond it.

For there, standing in what looked to be a cellar of some kind, was Albus Dumbledore, his face uncharacteristically hostile and with his own wand pointed at Neville.

* * *

 **Notes** :

Thanks to Rachael and IKEAwhatyoudidthere for their help with this.

As ever, I'd love to hear your thoughts, they are hugely appreciated.


	47. Rats, Wrappers and Retaliation

**Ch. 47 Rats, Wrappers and Retaliation**

'" _Neville, put that wrapper in the bin, she must have given you enough of them to paper your bedroom by now." But as they left, Harry was sure he saw Neville slip the sweet wrapper into his pocket.' -_ Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

* * *

Dumbledore! Neville thought joyfully. He'd never died! Or else he'd somehow come back to life...hadn't he?

But no, looking more closely, this man wasn't Albus Dumbledore after all. He had the same sparkling blue eyes and a similar long, bushy beard, but the colour of said beard was more brown than grey, and his lips were thinner.

" _Who_ in Godfric's name _are_ you and how is it that you have happened to appear behind a painting in my house? Explain yourself boy!" the man bellowed in a deep, commanding tone.

Neville glanced hastily around the room before responding, trying to gain more information in order to judge the situation. But there was nothing unusual in the apparent cellar, except what looked like a few beer barrels standing in the corner. Neville reminded himself that the ROR would not have sent him into harm's way and it was this, as well as some kind of instinct, that led Neville to trust the man.

"My name is Neville Longbottom," he explained. "I'm a student of Hogwarts...but then, I suppose I might not be anymore. I was hiding in the castle because – because Death Eaters were after me, and a portrait appeared on the wall – of a young girl with blond hair – and behind it was this passageway which I followed and – and I got here." Neville finished.

The man studied Neville for a long moment before finally lowering his wand, his shoulders sagging slightly as if in relief.

"Neville Longbottom?" he asked gruffly. "Son of Alice and Frank?"

"Yes," Neville said, feeling heartened by the fact the man had called his parents by their first names. That could only be a good sign, couldn't it?

"They were good people, your parents. Brave. Your gran's made of strong stuff too." The man nodded shortly, as if agreeing with himself, and Neville felt buoyed further at his words. "Well, what're you doing still standing there for? Come in!"

Smiling to show his gratitude, Neville jumped down into the room as the man held out his hand for Neville to shake it.

"Aberforth Dumbledore," he stated as Neville took his hand. "Your old headmaster's brother, to be precise. And landlord of the Hog's Head, the cellar of which you happened to have found yourself in. Now, why _is_ that do you think?"

Thoughts shifted in Neville's mind – he hadn't known Dumbledore had had a brother. But then, he realised, he hadn't known anything about Dumbledore's family. Neville explained to Aberforth about the Room of Requirement, of his hunger and thinking – _wishing_ – for food, and then of how the tunnel had appeared.

When Neville finished, Aberforth nodded in acknowledgement. "That castle holds magic too ancient and complex for most of us to understand," he mumbled, then commanded sharply, "Stay here." He waved his hand dismissively to indicate that by 'here' he meant the cellar, and left the room.

Nevile took the opportunity to take in his surroundings in more detail. He could see the other side of the portrait now and noted that it was of the same, smiling blond girl. Now Neville was looking more closely at it, he saw how she had the same blue eyes as Aberforth and Albus Dumbledore.

He looked around and aimlessly started examining an odd assortment of items on a nearby shelf. There was a heap of clothes piled on it including, bizarrely, a Hogwarts school uniform. He reached out and gingerly sifted through the pile. There were, in fact, several school uniforms, including school ties – at least one each with stripes of red, blue, yellow and green. Why on earth were these students' clothes in a pile in Aberforth's cellar? And where were their owners? A shiver prickled down Neville's spine. Then, like a final puzzle piece slotting into place, Neville thought he had the answer.

A few moments later, Aberforth shuffled into the room, carrying a plate of thickly cut bread and a steaming pewter bowl which was emitting a mouth-watering smell of meat and onions. Aberforth inelegantly plonked the plate and bowl down on the table. "Here," the man stated. "Eat."

Neville hadn't moved so fast in all his life. He swiftly hurried to sit at the table and started wolfing down the meal. He had many questions for Aberforth, but his deep hunger made him prioritise eating the food in front of him. It was delicious, and it was only as he was eating the last mouthfuls that Neville even processed what it was: beef stew. Not as good as his gran's, but it was heavenly none-the-less.

Aberforth had been looking shrewdly at him for the duration of Neville's glutinous display. When Neville finished, they were both silent for a few moments.

"Thank you. Thanks so much, that was really good," Neville gushed, and Aberforth gave him a small smile – the first, genuine smile Neville had seen from him. Neville eyed the school uniforms. "It was you, wasn't it? That helped the students that have disappeared? You helped them escape from the school?"

Aberforth followed Neville's gaze to the shelf. "I did, and I have. If they could make it to the pub, I would shelter them here until an Order member would come to take them away. I got them a change of clothes, because going about in their school uniform was, of course, not the safest thing for them. I should really burn that pile," he gestured to the discarded clothes, "rather incriminating otherwise, but I suppose it just doesn't feel right, destroying their uniforms…"

"That was – that was a good really good of you. Did – did you help a girl called Marietta?"

Aberforth nodded. "She was one of the first students I hid. Poor girl...she seemed...lost...not quite there. But then I heard she'd been in the hands of Macnair, and understood why," he shook his head gravely. "She and her family should be safely in France now, if they've been lucky."

"But how did they get to you? From the school?" Neville asked. He knew the DA hadn't helped any of them – they hadn't been able to, not with all the exits having been blocked or guarded all year.

"I don't know precisely. All I know is that I have an old painting of my brother in my sitting room. And one day, at the beginning of this school year, he said to me that children may start coming into my pub. That they would approach the bar, ask for an elderflower cordial and say 'I heard you have rats in your cellar'. 'They'll be in dire need, Aberforth' my brother – or rather, the memory of him – said. 'They'll need to escape from the wizarding world. And you must keep them safe until an Order member comes to take them away.'

"We didn't get on, my brother and I, we had...differences...but when it comes to children's lives, those differences really don't seem to matter anymore. And so they started coming, exactly like Albus said they would – creep in the door and up to the bar, asking for an elderflower, and then chanting the line about the rats in the cellar. When I asked them who accompanied them to the pub, they always said they couldn't remember...I have a feeling that the memory of their journey here had been obliviated. But then, it's often best not to ask too many questions. And you – I expect you'll be wanting to make an escape now too?"

Neville's mind reeled. He'd never imagined that there'd be a safe way out of Hogwarts, so had never seriously considered the possibility of escaping the castle. Now, when the opportunity seemed like a reality, he realised that it wasn't one he wanted to take.

"No. I can't leave them. The DA. The other students. I need to stay."

Aberforth graced him with a rare smile once again. "You're like your parents in more than looks," he commented, before rising and carrying the plate and bowl to the narrow stairway in the corner. Neville's heart clenched at his words. "I can keep you stocked for food – come through tomorrow morning, and I'll have some for you then. And your friends as well if they need it."

Neville felt a swelling of gratitude. "Thank you, Mr. Dumbledore," he said.

Aberforth turned before ascending the stairs, gave Neville a half smile and a wink and said, "Call me Ab."

* * *

Later that evening, a few hours after Neville had returned from the cellar of the Hog's Head, the door of the Room of Requirement appeared within one of its walls and an assortment of DA members finally tumbled through it.

'Tumbled' was the right word, because they came haphazardly through the door, with half of them seeming to hold the other half up. Neville's stomach roiled disconcertingly as he made his way towards them and helped Seamus, who was white, weak and silent, down onto some cushions. Lavender was letting out wracking sobs, her whole upper body convulsing with each cry. Her normally pristine hair was tousled, her cheeks blotchy and eyes red.

Hannah who, to Neville's relief, appeared okay – except her face was drawn in the way it did when she was trying to hide her anxiety – approached him and gave him a quick but intense hug.

"What's happened?" Neville demanded, once Hannah released him.

Padma, who was helping a shaking Parvati down next to Seamus, turned to him. "The Carrows were really angry after the fight in the Muggle Studies class, after you ran away. They kept those that had fought in the dungeons. Not for The Fear, just to keep them contained somewhere. And the rest of us, they had teachers or the IS watching us like hawks, so we couldn't make it here until now, sorry Neville –"

"Don't worry about that, what's happened? Why are half of you practically unconscious?"

"They made us practise curses on each other...but it was relentless this time…they had people go back for another round every twenty minutes or so..." Susan Bones continued the explanation as Padma moved to their makeshift apothecary and started hurriedly rifling around on one of the shelves.

Neville's attention turned to Terry, who'd sat gingerly down on a chair, rested his head in his hands and was looking blankly at the floor. He was paler than Neville had ever seen him, even compared to when he'd been coming down from Somnium Beautus.

"What's wrong, Terry?" Neville asked, taking a seat next to him.

Terry's eyes flicked to Neville, then back at the floor. "They took Alfie, my little brother," he said quietly. "Some younger IS members were giving a couple of half-bloods a hard time, and Alfie stood up to them. He was cheeky apparently – he's always had a sharp tongue. So – so they gave him the Fear... They're chaining them up now, you know? In the dungeons? He was down there for his second night when Michael decided to try and rescue him," Terry shook his head. "I didn't know he was going to do it...afterwards, he said he wanted to make it up to me for messing me around…" Neville had heard of Terry and Michael's on-off relationship, but didn't know the details, and he didn't think this would be a very good time to ask. "He nearly managed it as well – stunned the IS members keeping guard, charmed his way into the cell and freed Alfie...but then they were found, just before they got to Ravenclaw Tower. By fucking Crabbe and Flint, of all people."

Terry shook his head, as if not believing what his memories were telling him. Neville was silent, waiting for him to continue. "The Carrows made an example of him. Had him tied up on this rack thing in the main courtyard. Student after student had to come forward and curse him. Now he's been left there, all day, for students – or teachers – to curse him at will. He wasn't even conscious when I saw him last, just before we came here." Terry buried his face in his hands, clearly indicating he couldn't speak anymore.

"Nev, can you help me with this?" Padma asked. Or rather commanded.

Neville obeyed uncomplainingly. He wanted to do something in that moment, needed to feel useful.

Padma was holding a bottle of blue liquid out to him. "It's a calming draught, mixed with strengthening solution. Go and get Seamus to take some."

Neville did as he was bid, kneeling down next to a half-conscious Seamus and cajoling the boy to take some sips of the potion. After a few moments, a bit of colour came back to the boy's cheeks and he appeared more alert.

Lavender, who's tears had finally subsided, came forward and knelt by Seamus' other side.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she mumbled.

Seamus reached out with a trembling arm and squeezed Lavender's hand with his. "I barely felt anything. I'm fine."

Neville guessed from what they were saying that Lavender had had to hurt Seamus, and more than once, judging by her distress.

"Really?" Lavender asked, a desperate hope in her voice.

"I barely felt a scratch," Seamus said softly, looking intently into her eyes. "You have to really mean it, remember?"

"But – the way you were yelling – it sounded so awful."

"I'm not stupid, am I?" Seamus replied. "I had to pretend."

"Lav?" Padma called from where she was knelt over a feebly stirring Parvati. The Ravenclaw's face was drawn and she was frowning anxiously. "Will you get some more calming draught for me? And maybe take a little yourself?"

Lavender nodded and rose to carry out Padma's request. When she was out of earshot, Neville spoke quietly to Seamus.

"How bad was it really?"

Seamus' lips curled into a rueful smile, which quickly turned into a grimace. "Maybe I felt more than a scratch... She doesn't know her own power, that witch. But it was nowhere near as bad as I know it can hurt. Don't tell her. She did the right thing. If she'd refused we'd all have ended up like Michael."

Neville nodded. "Of course."

An hour or so later, most of the weak and semi-conscious students were either in a restful sleep or more alert, depending on the damage that had been done to them.

"I'm not going back there," Lavender declared over the murmuring of voices. "Into the school. I'm going to stay here. With Neville."

Neville nodded in agreement. "It's probably too dangerous for most of you to return now, surely?"

As he said it, the air seemed to become thinner and shimmered uncannily, as if the fabric of existence was rippling and shifting, before righting itself again. The students looked around them as the walls slid back and the size of the room increased. A balcony formed several feet up around the perimeter of the room and several hammocks materialised, tied between its railings. Finally, there was the sound of rustling above them and they all looked up as three tapestries descended from the ceiling, one each in the rich colours and bold symbols of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff houses.

"Did _you_ do that, Nev?" Susan Bones asked, her eyes wide in awe.

"Erm...well, I was kind of thinking that we'd all need somewhere to sleep," Neville replied with slight bewilderment, looking around at the hammocks bemusedly.

"I'm going to go back. Into the school," Terry declared. "I can't leave Michael. Or Alfie. I need to make sure they both get in here okay."

The group started talking, debating and deciding who would stay and take refuge in the Room of Requirement and who would return to the school. When people started to wonder how on earth they would get food, Neville explained about Aberforth.

When most of the decisions had been made, Lavender stepped forward towards Neville. She seemed calmer now, although her eyes were still blotchy and red.

"Neville," she began. She took a deep breath and pushed her shoulders back in an apparent effort to compose herself. The chatter of the room quietened as people waited apprehensively for what Lavender was going to say. "I'm going to need somewhere to wash."

Neville smiled, the tension in him and the room seeming to break as he did so. "Okay," and as he spoke, a space in one of the walls shimmered and a door appeared there, a gold plaque nailed to it bearing the words _Ladies' bathroom._

"Thanks, Neville," Lavender grinned and eagerly went to investigate the new amenities.

As she did so, Seamus sidled up to Neville, who was sitting with Hannah. "Nev, I'm going to our dorm one last time, to grab some stuff to bring back here. Is there anything you want from it?"

Neville thought, then asked hesitantly, "Could you get me a few changes of clothes? And...in my trunk, right at the bottom, there's a jar of sweet wrappers. Could you bring it to me?"

Seamus looked bemused. "A jar of sweets? Sure. I suppose Aberforth won't be giving us too many of those."

"No, not sweets – they're just – the wrappers," Neville explained awkwardly.

Seamus' frown deepened, but to Neville's relief, he didn't ask any more questions, just gave a short nod. "Sure. A jar of sweet wrappers. Will do."

"Thanks mate."

"Sweet wrappers?" Hannah queried gently, after Seamus had gone to help Lavender rearrange the hammocks.

"Just...something to do with my parents." Neville didn't think he was ready to tell Hannah about his collection of old sweet wrappers in detail. So he just smiled weakly and reached over to squeeze her hand. She stroked her thumb against his knuckles, and didn't push the matter.

After a moment, she said quietly, "I'd like to meet them one day. When all this is over… Your parents. It'd be nice to meet them."

Neville, who had been staring at their clasped hands, looked up at her.

"They won't understand, you know. They won't know who you are."

"I know all that," Hannah reassured, with a warm smile that always reminded Neville of the sun breaking through storm clouds. "But I'd still like to meet them."

There was a delicate silence, until Neville spoke again.

"Okay." The word came out a whisper because, for the first time, he actually felt entirely comfortable about the thought of someone other than his own family visiting his parents in their ward at St Mungo's.

* * *

They kept Michael tied up in the courtyard for another day and night. The DA tried to have at least one of their number with him at all times, but he was often guarded by IS members so it was hard for them to be of any real help. Finally, when he'd been unconscious for more than two hours, and was unable to be revived, it seemed that even the Carrows had worried that they'd gone too far. Michael was a pure-blood after all, and they had been ordered not to cause any irrevocable damage to pure-blood children.

He was taken to the hospital wing but only to be swiftly checked by Pomfrey, before the Carrows ordered him to be returned to Ravenclaw Tower. The next night, Terry, Michael and Alfie made their last journey to the Room of Requirement. They would not be returning to the school. Michael was still unwell, however – some of his shattered bones were taking longer than normal to heal, and he suffered from muscle spasms and a chronic headache. He lay in one of the few proper beds that had appeared in the room, tended by Padma and a handful of other students that had a talent for healing.

About two weeks after Neville's flight to the Room of Requirement, as April bled into May, the DA members heard news on _Potterwatch_ which cheered their spirits. Harry, Ron and Hermione had been spotted earlier that day breaking into Gringotts, of all things. No one was sure how true the story was, or why on earth Harry would be trying to rob a bank, but they all hoped that it was true. The news meant that the three of them were alive – not just alive, Neville thought, they were on form enough to thwart the goblins of Gringotts and escape the most heavily guarded building known to magical kind. On a _dragon_.

As the group talked animatedly about the news they'd just heard, Neville was distracted by a movement from the corner of his eye. He looked around to see Arianna smiling and making 'come hither' gestures at him, just like she had the first time the painting had appeared.

As he approached the portrait, it came away from the wall in its usual way and, well-practiced now, Neville nimbly jumped up into the tunnel and walked hurriedly down the dark passageway, wondering what Aberforth wanted. Maybe he'd had a new stock of food in, or news from the Order? Although, he rarely liaised with them directly. Most of his orders and news came from the portrait of his dead brother.

Finally, Neville reached the end of the tunnel, where Arianna's twin painting swung open, and he couldn't help but cry out in surprise at what he saw.

Because standing in Aberforth's cellar, flanked on either side by Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, was Harry Potter.

* * *

Thanks to Racheal and IKEAwhatyoudidthere for your help with this.  
Your reviews and thoughts are, as always, cherished and treasured.


	48. Kindness, Wit, Courageand Cunning

**Ch 48 Kindness, Wit, Courage...and Cunning**

A/N: Nearly all of the dialogue in the first half of this chapters is taken directly from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

* * *

 _'"_ _ _Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust.."'__

― Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Goblet and Fire.

"I knew you'd come! _ _I knew it, Harry!__ " Neville cried.

In one seamless movement, he jumped down from the tunnel and wrapped his friend in a ferocious hug. He felt buoyed, lighter then he'd felt in months.

 _ _When the boy who lived returns to his home...the battle between the light and the dark will commence__... Now they could fight – fight the Carrows and Snape out of Hogwarts.

"Neville – what the – how?"

But Neville was too focused on hugging Ron and Hermione to answer Harry's question.

"I knew you'd come!" Neville couldn't help but repeat. "Kept telling Seamus it was a matter of time!"

In preparation for the fight which Neville was sure would now be coming, he reached into his pocket and activated his enchanted galleon, sending a message to Luna and Dean, to Cho and Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys, to all of Dumbledore's Army in fact, as he'd promised them he would, alerting them to the fact that this was the time to come together against the tyranny that had ruled their school for too long.

"Neville, what happened to you?" Harry asked, and Neville realised his friend must be talking about the two gashes across his face – the remnants of Amycus' Septemsempra – as well as his dishevelled attire.

"What? This?" Neville shook his head, attempting to minimise his injuries. "This is nothing. Seamus is worse. You'll see. Shall we get going then? Oh," he turned to Aberforth, remembering his galleon message, "Ab, there might be a couple more people on the way."

"Couple more?" and as Aberforth continued his mild objections – Neville was now used to his cantankerous nature – Neville helped the others up into the tunnel, and they said their farewells to their old headmaster's brother.

"Did you really break into Gringotts?" Neville asked as they started to walk down the passage.

There were so many more questions he had for them, but the conversation turned to Hogwarts and so he started explaining to them about the Carrows. When Harry compared the siblings to Umbridge, Neville realised how blissfully ignorant the three were about what Hogwarts had become.

"Nah, they make her look tame," and Neville continued to tell them about their Death Eater teachers, the punishments, and Dumbledore's Army's desperate attempts at resistance.

By the time they reached the end of the passageway, the three were still firing questions at him. Neville had hoped he would have a chance to ask them in an equally inquisitive vigour about what on earth they'd been up to for the last eight months, but no matter, he thought, they'd be time enough for that.

He pushed open the portrait, excited to see the others' faces as he revealed who he'd brought back with him from the Hog's Head.

"Look who it is? Didn't I tell you?" Neville cried as the four of them emerged from the tunnel.

It was as satisfying as Neville had anticipated: the Army's initial looks of bewilderment, followed by their cries of surprise, the cheering, the excitement. And hidden under it all, Neville also sensed a relief – that, now that Harry was here, they could do something. They could fight for the freedom that they had undoubtedly earned.

There was jostling and gentle shoving as the girls hurried to hug the three newcomers and the boys gave each other comradic slaps on the back. Neville's cheeks were beginning to hurt, he was grinning so hard. Lavender hastened towards the trio, and Neville expected her to embrace Ron, but she bypassed her ex-boyfriend and, instead, drew Hermione to her in a tight hug.

"I've missed you!" Lavender exclaimed. "The dorm hasn't been the same without you!"

Hermione frowned, clearly bemused, but reciprocated Lavender's affections with a stiff hug. "Er – it's good to see you too."

The trio seemed somewhat awed by the room, so the Army explained about it's magic and how it had morphed to their needs throughout the year. It was, Neville realised, a rather amazing room.

Then, after Harry seemed to have a bit of a turn – he must be exhausted after the whole Gringotts-dragon adventure, Neville surmised – Seamus finally asked the questions that the whole group were no doubt thinking.

"What are we going to do then, Harry? What's the plan?"

"Plan?" Harry replied, grimacing as if in pain. "Well, there's something we – Ron, Hermione and I – need to do, and then we'll get out of here."

The buoyed feeling Neville had been experiencing since he'd first saw his three friends instantly deflated, replaced by an ominous, sinking one. The group fell silent.

"What do you mean, 'get out of here'?" Neville asked, confused.

"We haven't come back to stay," Harry rubbed his forehead agitatedly. "There's something important we need to do– "

"What is it?" Neville demanded.

"I – I can't tell you."

Neville couldn't understand what Harry was here to do if it wasn't to help them fight. After all they had gone through – and the prophecy – surely it was now time to reclaim the school that had been taken from them all year? Wasn't Harry here to help them do that?

"Why can't you tell us? It's something to do with fighting You-Know-Who, right?" Neville insisted. If Harry wasn't here to help them fight, then maybe they could help __Harry__ with whatever he was doing?

"You don't understand," Harry said, which aggrieved Nevile even more – if he explained himself, maybe they __would__ understand. "We – we can't tell you. We've got to do it alone."

Irritation bubbled up in Neville. "Why?"

"Because…" Harry grimaced again, holding his hand to his forehead. No, it was his scar, Neville realised – Harry was holding his scar. "Dumbledore left the three of us a job. And we weren't supposed to tell – I mean, he wanted us to do it, just the three of us."

Didn't Harry trust them? Or didn't he think they were good enough to help him?

"We're his Army," Neville objected. "Dumbledore's Army. We're all in it together, we've been keeping it together while you've been off on your own– "

"It hasn't exactly been a picnic, mate," Ron retorted, although his tone was gentle.

"I never said it had, but I don't see why you can't trust us. Everyone in this room's been fighting and they've been driven in here because the Carrows were hunting them down. Everyone in here's proven they're loyal to Dumbledore – loyal to you."

But the escalating tension was interrupted by the portrait 'door' opening behind them. Neville's heart surged once more as he saw Dean and Luna emerge from it.

Seamus gave a roar of delight and launched himself at Dean in a fierce hug. Then the group were distracted by the arrival of more DA members: Fred, George, Lee, Cho. As the group greeted and embraced each other, Neville explained to Harry that he'd called all members of the Army together again. But Harry seemed to forget that Neville – and the whole room, in fact – existed as Ginny clambered down into the room and gave Harry a blazing smile.

Then Fred and Dean started firing similar questions at Harry – about when they were going to 'start fighting'. This was followed by Ron, Harry and Hermione having a furtive conversation amongst themselves; Neville was only able to catch Hermione saying earnestly to Harry, "...you don't have to do everything alone". Finally, Harry conceded to having the Army help him.

The group listened intently as Harry explained the need to find a precious lost heirloom of Rowena Ravenclaw's – something like a tiara. It was finally decided that Luna would take Harry to her common room so he could see what the object might look like from the statue of House's founder that stood in an alcove of the room.

Neville led Luna and Harry to the exit of the room and watched them disappear down the corridor, wishing he could go with them but knowing it was safer, more sensible, for just the two of them to go. He consoled himself by sitting down with Ginny and Dean and devouring every word of Dean's tales of being on the run, and Ginny's of being in hiding.

A short while after Harry and Luna had left, Ron and Hemrione, who'd been whispering amongst themselves, garbled something about a bathroom and also hurried out of the room. Neville felt a rise of irritation at how none of the trio seemed to be explaining things properly but, before he could dwell on it, Fred Weasely approached him.

"Neville, you seem to be in charge round here," – did he? – "We think we should alert the Order as well. Can't expect them to miss the fun, can we?"

Neville agreed and the remains of his chagrin was forgotten as, about twenty minutes later, members of the Order of the Phoenix entered the room: Remus Lupin, Kinglsey Shacklebolt, Ginny's parents...

Then, about an hour after that, Harry and Luna finally came tumbling back into the room. Harry looked around at the new occupants in surprise.

"Harry, what's happening?" Lupin came forward, speaking with an authority Neville had always respected in him.

"Voldemort's on his way, they're barricading the school – Snape's run for it," Neville's heart lurched to somewhere near his throat at Harry's words. "What are you doing here? How did you know?"

After Fred hurriedly explained the presence of the Order members, Neville finally heard the words he'd been expecting – hoping – to hear from Harry's lips since he'd first seen him in the cellar of the Hog's Head: "They're evacuating the younger kids and everyone's meeting in the Great Hall to get organised.

"We're fighting."

* * *

The Great Hall was buzzing with an edgy anticipation and a frenetic nervousness Neville had never felt in the ancient room before. It was filled with an odd assortment of people: older students in school uniform, alert and attentive, talking animatedly to Order members, younger students in dressing gowns, looking anxious and preoccupied and being comforted by teachers. The older Slytherins sat apart from the rest, in a group of their own. The atmosphere about them was different to that of the rest of the hall – their demeanours were still, their expressions quietly watchful.

Neville felt buoyed once more. Because Snape had been ousted. And the Carrows rendered unconscious. Finally, __finally__ , they could – hopefully – get the school back. They listened as McGonagall instructed that the younger students were to be evacuated from the school and seemingly reluctantly conceded that those that were 'of age' could stay and fight. No doubt she knew that if she refused them permission, they would try and stay anyway, without the adults knowing, which would mean they would be in greater danger.

"We have already placed protection around the castle," she was saying. "But it is unlikely to hold for very long unless we reinforce it. I must ask you, therefore, to move quickly and calmly, and do as your prefects–"

But McGonagall was interrupted by an excruciatingly high pitched noise cutting through the air. Students cried out in alarm and terror, grimacing and holding their hands over their ears, as a disembodied voice started to speak, a voice that chilled Neville to his core.

"I know that you are preparing to fight," the voice echoed eerily off the walls of the hall. "Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood."

The voice paused and the hall was momentarily filled with a deep, impenetrable silence. Neville knew now that the voice was Voldemort's.

"Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded.

"You have until midnight."

Neville's eyes, along with every other pair in the hall, found Harry, who was stood between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables, his expression a mixture of defiance and uncertainty.

Then a girl's shout cut through the silence, accusatory and threatening, "But he's there! Potter's __there__! Someone grab him!"

Neville's head snapped towards the cry. Pansy Parkinson stood with her arm outstretched and pointing at Harry, her face cold but her eyes blazing.

No _ _. No__. Ginny stepped forward, in between Harry and the group of older Slytherin's, where Pansy Parkinson was sat and Neville instinctively mirrored her movements, as around him more students rose from their seats, forming a protective shield of humanity around Harry Potter, their backs to him and their wands pointing outwards.

"Thank you, Miss Parkinson," McGonagall said calmly. "You shall leave the hall first, with Mr Filch. If the rest of your house could follow."

The Slytherins, as quiet and composed ever, their expressions mostly unreadable, trooped out of the hall, followed by the students that were too young to fight. It was half an hour until midnight and as Kingsley started to give orders, Neville pushed his way through the crowd to get to Hannah.

* * *

Theo knew what McGonagall had been doing when she'd ordered that the Slytherins be taken from the hall. She had not just assumed that the whole of Slytherin house were Death Eater supporters. Theo knew her intentions were far more complex.

There __were__ Slytherins that, if they had the chance, would hinder the Light's efforts to protect the school and cross over to the other side to fight, it was true. But then there were the ones that would not want to fight at all, that just wanted to get home, to safety. Theo could see this in the haunted quietness of the younger years as they were marched down the corridors. And then there were the ones that did not want to fight alongside their parents or Voldemort, but that, if it were known that they'd been left to their own devices, would be __obliged__ to, that would __have__ to. The ones like him.

So, in apparently taking that choice away from them and rendering them unable to fight at all, Minerva McGonagall had done the kindest thing that she could possibly do to the ones like Theo.

But despite all that, Theo was going to fight regardless. During the last few weeks, ever since that Merlin-awful fracas in Muggle Studies, after which Longbottom had disappeared, the Carrows had retaliated with unprecedented malice and cruelty. It had been painful to watch the plight of Michael Corner and the rest of Potter's fan-club. So, when Parvati had disappeared along with so many of them, probably into the room they'd used in fifth year, Theo supposed, it had actually been a relief. At least she was likely to be safer there than in the school. And it had all helped Theo finally decided what stand he was going to make; what side he was on.

So When Draco grabbed Crabbe and Goyle and hung back from the crowd, letting the other Slytherins and younger students troop past them, Theo did the same, noting disconcertingly that Daphne joined them.

"Draco mate, what are you doing?" Theo hissed.

Draco eyed Theo with a now familiar, tortured expression. "What I have to do, Theo. Get Potter. For my parents – he'll spare their lives if I bring him Potter."

Theo knew the Malfoy's loyalty and love for each other was powerful and unbreakable. But he also knew that, in order to remain loyal to his parents, Draco would be denying essential parts of himself.

"Draco, you don't have to do this – there are other ways."

"I don't have a fucking choice, Theo."

"Yes. Yes, you do."

Draco shook his head and, with Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him, turned and ran up the corridor that was starting to fill with frantically rushing students and adults who were preparing the school for attack.

Theo felt a soft hand in his, squeezing gently.

"There's nothing you can do for him now," Daphne said quietly. Looking into her calm face made Theo's anxiety diminish slightly. "Shall we go and find our twins?"

Theo nodded, and he and Daphne turned and walked into the frey, both of them undoing and discarding their ties, knowing the green and silver stripes were nothing but incriminating now.

* * *

Neville pulled Hannah away from a group of Hufflepuffs, grabbed her tightly on each arm and looked down at her intently.

"You're going to stay? To fight?" he asked, trying not to imagine her in the midst of battle, dodging curses and shielding hexes, constantly in danger.

Hannah frowned, as if confused. "Of course. Of course I am."

Neville realised what a silly question that had been. Of course she was going to fight. Looking at Hannah's indignant face, Neville understood what it was to be a Hufflepuff. Hannah was kind and true and brimmed with so much compassion it spilled out of her with every smile, but her burning desire to do what was right also made her as brave as any Gryffindor.

"Right. Okay." Neville said, trying to process what this might mean, and the pain it wrought him. "Just – don't get fucking hurt. We'll stay together okay?"

He needed her to stay with him because he didn't know if he'd function knowing Hannah was fighting but not knowing how or where she was, if she was injured or–

"Okay," Hannah agreed, her eyes an intense calmness that made his heart slow to a tolerable rate.

Neville leant forward and crashed his lips to hers, pushing away thoughts of how this might be one of the last times he'd be able to do so.

"Longbottom!" A stern voice called out. "There's no time for that – come with me! We're finally going to put that harvest of mandrakes I've been growing all year to good use!"

Neville abruptly pulled away from the kiss to see Professor Sprout looking at him expectantly. "You can come too, Miss Abbott. We'll need as many wands as possible to move the Devil's Snare to an optimal position…"

* * *

Theo and Daphne searched frantically for the Patil twins, asking nearly everyone they came across if they knew their whereabouts. Those that didn't know who they were, that didn't recognise them as Slytherins, shrugged at them helplessly. Those that did eyed them suspiciously. They almost jinxed Terry Boot because he was about to hex them, but the Ravenclaw got distracted by the arrival of Michael Corner. Boot got so engrossed in telling his friend he shouldn't fight because he 'wasn't strong enough and hadn't recovered enough from the Carrows' torture', that he seemed to forget Theo and Daphne completely.

From the look of Corner, Theo was inclined to agree with Boot, but he was in no position to join the Ravenclaws' debate. Daphne pulled him along towards the Entrance Hall and relief soared in Theo when he spied Lavender Brown on the first floor landing - wherever she was, Parvati was sure to be near. She was with Professor Trelawney, unloading boxes of crystal balls from a nearby cupboard.

"I knew these would come in handy here!" the Divination teacher was saying. "I __saw__ it, you see!"

"Brown!" Theo called, halting mid-run.

Lavender turned and looked in surprise at Theo and Daphne. She raised her wand at them, her face stern, but otherwise didn't move. Theo put his arms out in a mock-surrender gesture.

"We're looking for Parvati and Padma. We're on your side. You know that, right?"

Lavender slowly lowered her wand, her expression softening. She nodded to a hallway off the landing. "They're guarding the windows, just a few feet that way."

Theo and Daphne sped down the hall. As she spied Padma, Daphne ran to her, leaving Theo to grab hold of Parvati's arm. She turned to him, her eyes widening in alarm as she saw him.

"Theo? What the hell? Why haven't you left the castle?" she asked accusingly.

"I can't leave you here to fight. I'm staying with you," Theo stated definitively.

Parvati shook her head rapidly, as if trying to shake off his words. "No. Your father, Theo. He'll be here, won't he? Fighting for the other side, in a __mask__ , what if you fight him without knowing it's him? The Vow, Theo – you'll – you'll __die__!"

Tears of agitation brimmed in Parvati's eyes, and it pained Theo to know he was the cause of them.

"He – he won't hurt me." But even as he said them, Theo doubted the truth of his own words.

"It's not as simple as that! He might if he can't see it's you! Battle's are messy and chaotic, Theo–"

"Then I'll __recognise__ him. Even with his mask on. I know him from the way he moves, from the stoop of his shoulders. I won't give him a reason to attack me, I'll stay away from him."

"How can you control that? It will mean you can't defend yourself! Please, Theo – please don't fight – go to the Room of Requirement, wait for me there. Please, do this for me!"

Theo reached out and cupped Parvati's jaw, stilling her shaking head, and tilting it so she had no choice but to look him in the eyes.

"I can't __not__ fight, Par," he said earnestly. "Don't ask me to do that. For years I've been hiding, pushing away parts of my very self, pretending to be something I'm not. Now, I can make up for all that."

There was a pause as Parvati looked at him, her eyes beseeching.

"Par, I don't want __you__ to fight just as much as you don't want me to," Theo said quietly. "But I know I'd be asking you to go against your very nature if I asked you not to. Which is why I'm not doing that."

Parvati reached up and impatiently brushed at her damp cheeks, nodding shortly.

"Okay. Okay, Theo. But we'll stay together, right?"

Relieved, Theo nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course."

He closed his eyes because he hated to see the tears on her face, and leant forward so his forehead rested against hers, inhaling in deep gulps of air the beautiful scent of jasmine, lavender and something sweet like pumpkin juice.

* * *

It was eerily quiet on the battlements of Gryffindor Tower. Neville was positioned above the main entrance to the castle, with Hannah and Sprout a few feet on either side of him, and an ample amount of mandrakes at his feet.

The muffled sounds of tens – possibly hundreds – of people below travelled to him on the warm breeze of the summer night. The sounds came from both sides of the huge, ethereal, shield that had been cast around the school. The voices were muted, as if they belonged to ghosts, but Neville reminded himself that that was far from the truth. They were all real, living people, able to maim and to kill, able to bleed and to break.

It was surreal, really, how staggeringly beautiful it looked as the army of Death Eaters fired curse after curse down on the twinkling wall of protective spells that encased the castle. Their attacks caused relentless sparks of white light to rebound off the shield, much like a fantastical fireworks display.

After some time, the glittering sheet of the protective wards started to shimmer precariously and, when cracks started to form in it, Hannah's hand found his and squeezed it so tightly it hurt. They both stood, silently gazing ahead of them as the night sky was set ablaze.

He felt Hannah tense as the first curse broke though the shield – a flash of green light that faded futilely into the air above their heads. But it had broken through nonetheless. It was followed by further cracks in the enchanted wall, which formed crevices that gradually opened up into gaping holes.

The shield was failing.

 _ _When the protections are broken and the bloodshed starts, those with kindness, wit and courage will be set apart...__

Neville reluctantly relinquished Hannah's hand so he could reach down and grab a mandrake with it instead.

As he straightened up, he heard an intimidating roar of anger – a battle cry – as a river of terrifying humanity, cloaked in black and masked in silver, rushed towards the school, their wands drawn.

The battle had begun.

* * *

A/N: Your kudos and comments are cherished and treasured.

Huge thanks to Rachael and IKEAwhatyoudidthere.


	49. The Battle of Hogwarts

A/N:

Sorry for the slight delay in posting this, I've been suffering from an awful migraine over the last few days.

Yikes! Here we are - the battle! Just two more chapters and an epilogue after this one!  
This chapter skips between different POVs with page breaks but no section 'name' title as I usually do.  
The keen reader may notice that I've tweaked certain bits of canon...but I hope you'll let me off... ;o)

* * *

 **Ch. 49 The Battle of Hogwarts**

 _'The odd thing is, Harry,' [Dumbledore] said softly, 'that it may not have meant you at all. Sybil's prophecy could have applied to two wizard boys, born at the end of July that year, both of whom had parents in the Order of the Phoenix, both sets of parents having narrowly escaped Voldemort three times. One, of course was you. The other was Neville Longbottom.'_

 _-_ Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

* * *

Parvati stood, anxious but determined, her wand pointing out a window of the first floor of the castle, sending hex after hex at the Death Eaters below, as Theo did the same by her side. Most of the Death Eaters fell to the ground long before they'd got to the entrance of the castle due to the deadly cry of numerous mandrakes that rained down on them from somewhere above their heads.

" _Nott!?_ What the fuck?" came a cry from Parvati's right.

Parvati looked and saw Ginny Weasley rushing towards them, her hair flying behind like a wayward flame, flanked on either side by Colin Creevey, of all people, and a girl Parvati didn't recognise. Ginny came to a halt at the next window along from them and aimed her wand at Theo. "Stupify!" she cried.

To Parvati's relief, Theo managed to shield himself from the curse just in time.

"Ginny!" Parvati yelled. "He's on our side!"

"What?" The seventh child of a seventh child looked defiant. Her stance remained combative but her frown of confusion showed that she was thinking through Parvati's words.

"He has been all along!" Parvati continued.

"Prove it! If you -"

But Ginny's next words were drowned out by the sound of smashing glass. A giant hand burst through the window next to where Ginny was standing. Humongous fat fingers would have easily curled themselves around her slight frame if it hadn't been for Theo, who rushed forward and lunged at her, pushing her out of the way of the huge, grappling digits and careening them both to the ground. Parvati cast one of the nastier stinging jinxes at the enormous hand and it abruptly withdrew from the window, as if it had been burnt.

"Is that proof enough?" Theo asked dryly as he lifted himself off the floor and held out a hand to help Ginny up too.

* * *

Neville was aware how ridiculous his ear muffs must look, but he was grateful for them as he threw mandrake after mandrake over the battlements. They flailed through the air and, as they neared the ground, Neville saw the Death Eaters below reach up and push their hands to their ears in an attempt to block out the creature's deadly screams before both human and mandrake collapsed on the cobbles.

Neville tried not to think of what that meant – of how many lives must have ended with each mandrake he hurled off the tower. It was something he couldn't afford to think about at that moment, because it would mean he'd have to pause – to falter – and that could be deadly.

After he'd launched the last of the mandrakes over the parapets, Neville watched as streams of Death Eaters ran over the carpet of littered plants and their fallen comrades, and into the castle. He turned to Hannah. They exchanged a wordless look before turning instinctively and running down the stairs of the tower, their wands brandished in front of them, to help their friends on the floors below.

* * *

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Parvati asked, glaring accusingly at Ginny and Colin. "You're both underage. And you as well, no doubt," Parvati nodded at the fair-haired girl with them, who was clutching hands with Colin.

"I couldn't just stay in the ROR whilst all my friends were fighting! And neither could Colin and Izzy. 'The most powerful weapon being the loyalty of friends','" Ginny finished, inexplicably.

A crescendo of roaring and yelling rose up from the Entrance Hall below. Parvati's stomach lurched.

"And I'm sixteen next week!" the girl – Izzy – stated, as if that were a good argument.

Parvati, however, was no longer looking at her but at a group of masked figures beyond her that were racing down the corridor from the opposite direction to the Entrance Hall. They must have infiltrated the castle from another entrance.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

"Stupify!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

There was a chaotic tornado of curses and hexes, and amongst it all Parvati saw Colin throw himself in front of Izzy as a jet of green light arced through the air towards her.

The green light landed on Colin's torso.

It happened extraordinarily quickly: Colin's body crumpling to the floor, his face slackening, light fading from his eyes as the life left him.

"Noooo!" The cry was tortured and wretched and came from Izzy. But Parvati and the rest of the group didn't stop – couldn't stop – as they fought the Death Eaters in front of them.

"Bombarda Maxima!"

Parvati wasn't sure who cast the curse, but suddenly the wall to her right exploded and a cascade of bricks and debris fell down on them. Ginny grabbed Izzy and, in an effort to avoid a huge falling boulder, launched them both out of the nearest window.

The Death Eaters they'd been fighting were felled now – one bound in a strong incarcerous, two Petrified and the other writhing on the ground with purple pustules erupting all over him. Parvati leaned out the window and saw that Ginny and Izzy must have cushioned their falls because they were scrambling up from the cobbles on which they'd landed, apparently unharmed. Parvati lost sight of them as they ran into the smoke of fire and remnants of magic that filled the courtyard below.

"They're okay!" she called at Theo.

As she looked back at him, she saw two people running towards them from the direction of the Entrance Hall and felt a wave of relief as Remus Lupin and a woman with electric blue hair reached them. Then, another group of Death Eaters, led by a tall, stooped figure, charged down the corridor towards them, and Parvati raised her wand to defend herself against another round of curses.

* * *

Neville had spent many solitary moments, in the stifling quiet of the Room of Requirement, wondering about what being in a battle would be like, about what kind of fighter he would be.

He realised now that his actions in battle were not choices, they were instinctive and automatic. The lack of time – having only split seconds between casting curses – worked in Neville's favour because it meant he didn't have time to think. Not thinking, and only being able to rely on his impulses, somehow made his movements _graceful_ , his curses accurate and stealth.

He didn't know what it was – this quality that enabled these reflexes – maybe it was a mixture of pure, unadulterated adrenaline and what the Sorting Hat had seen in him, that first day of the school year: 'There's a fire brewing in you, Mr Longbottom,' the Hat had said. 'The courage – it's buried so deep you cannot see it yourself. Yet. But one day…'

Maybe it was what he'd learnt in that hidden room of the DA, what he'd practised at the Ministry, and on the Astronomy Tower. They were all coming together in a succession of well-timed hexes and accurately aimed curses that Neville hadn't even known he could make. Whatever it was, he welcomed it; he was certainly in no position to question it.

All the while, he ensured Hannah was always him – that he was always able to see a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye.

During long winter evenings in the Gryffindor Common Room, Dean had told them about Muggle action films. He'd acted out scenes with Seamus, both of them reciting the fight banter of Hollywood heroes. But Neville knew now that that was all dragonshite. He knew that war was messy and confusing and terrifying, and there were no exclamations, like 'Bring it on!' or 'Yippee ki yay motherfuckers!', because there wasn't time. Once one Death Eater had fallen, Neville had to turn and defend himself against the ones that had appeared behind him. He couldn't waste time thinking about witty one-liners. The fight banter he exchanged with his adversaries consisted only of grunts of frustration and yells of pain.

It seemed different for the Weasley siblings, however, as Neville discovered when he found himself in a corridor with Fred, Percy, Ron, Hermione and Harry. As Pius Thickness lowered his hood, revealing himself, Percy, of all people, decided to get a smart mouth.

"Hello Minister!" he yelled. "Did I mention I'm resigning?"

"You're joking, Perce!" Fred called back, as Neville fired one of three stunning spells at an advancing Death Eater and Thicknesse fell to the ground, disfigured from an unknown hex of Percy's. "You actually _are_ joking Perce… I don't think I've heard you joke since you were–"

The ground shook. Walls imploded and it was as if the castle itself were falling inwards. Inwards and _on top_ of Neville and Fred, as they found themselves being buried under a relentless cascade of falling bricks and debris.

* * *

The woman with electric blue hair must be Lupin's young wife, Parvati surmised, as she dodged curses and fired hexes alongside them.

She – Tonks, was it? – lunged in front of Lupin just as the tall, stooped Death Eater blasted a shock of emerald light from his wand.

It hit the woman right in the heart.

Parvati had seen a lot of anguish by this point in her life, but she hadn't seen anything like the look of contorted torment on Lupin's face as Tonks fell to the floor. It was that which killed him – the hesitation – as he looked down at his fallen mate, whose hair had turned from blue to an ashen grey – because it was enough time for the Death Eater to expel another killing curse from his wand.

There was no time for Lupin to shield himself from it.

In the end, perversely, it was not lack of defensive skill that killed Remus Lupin – of course it wasn't. It was the time he'd taken to grieve. To love.

Parvati thought fleetingly, in an effort to console herself, that at least the last thing Lupin saw before he'd died was Tonks' face.

So when the Death Eater turned to her and Theo, Parvati knew he was one of the more ruthless and heartless of his kind. And it was why she was initially confused when she saw that Theo, instead of cursing the man, had lowered his wand and started backing away from him until he'd come up against a huge pile of debris that was blocking the corridor.

It was the first time Parvati had seen naked, pure, unadulterated fear on Theo's face, and when she turned back to the Death Eater in front of them, she understood why. He'd lowered his mask and she could see his features. Features that reminded her, with an ominous dread, of the boy she'd grown to love with a burning passion and unique fervour, who was now standing trembling by her side.

When the man raised his wand at them, Parvati didn't hesitate. She had seen what he was capable of. She'd seen it in the fallen bodies of Lupin and Tonks, had heard it in the hollowness of Theo's voice as he'd spoken of his childhood, had seen it reflected in the tears he'd cried.

Later, Parvati thought about all the other hexes and curses she could have cast, but none of them would have stopped Nott senior. He would have risen from the red and white lights of those curses to hurt and kill again. It was this knowledge that made the lion in her roar and which drove her to do what she did.

"Avada Kedavra!"

She cast the killing curse exactly as Amycus had taught her; green light erupted from her wand, expertly aimed at the father of the boy she loved.

'You have to really mean it' she'd been told countless times, and it seemed she had on this occasion because Nott senior's body went slack, his wand dropped from his hand and he fell backwards, limp and lifeless, onto the floor behind him.

Parvati turned to Theo, her movements slow and stiff, because something like ice was rippling through her body. She knew what this was – that her magic was reacting to the darkness she'd let into her soul.

When she saw the expression on Theo's face, she realised why these curses were called 'Unforgivables'. Because Theo was looking at her with such shock and confusion it was as if he didn't recognise her, and it made her wonder if he would ever forgive her for what she'd just done.

* * *

Neville was lying flat on his back, and there was nothing but darkness and pain. Excruciating pain that radiated from his right ankle. He lifted his head, only for it to strike something inches above him. He realised he was in a small, confined space – he couldn't move except to turn his head to either side – and remembered that the castle had seemed to have fallen on top of him.

He wondered if the entire school had collapsed, and that this was it now – he was lying in a ready-made grave. But he wasn't prepared to give up that easily.

He grappled around desperately with his left hand and relief swept over him as he grasped hold of his wand. But he couldn't angle it to cast anything useful like a levitation charm. Maybe a little lumos - yes, that was something - at least there was light. There was someone lying next to him, and Neville managed to turn his head to the side and make out, through a cushion of dust and debris, a flash of red hair. Fred. At least he wasn't alone.

Neville went to open his mouth to speak but realised it was covered with dirt and grit from the rubble. He couldn't move his arms to brush the rubble away and daren't open his mouth because he was worried that the fragments of Hogwarts would fall into it, choking him. Would that be how he'd die, after all this, suffocated by the remnants of the school he'd fought to protect?

But Neville realised he was being ridiculous, quelled his rising panic and opened his mouth, spat the grit and dirt out, and yelled up into the carpet of fallen masonry above him. " _Hello?! Help!_ " Then, more quietly, he asked, "Fred?"

There was no answer and so he assumed that Fred had been rendered unconscious, but Neville carried on speaking anyway, because maybe he was just finding it hard to move and talk. "It's okay Fred, we'll get out of here – I've got my wand. _Help_!"

"Neville!? Oh thank God!" Neville heard a muffled voice, possibly Hermione's, through the fallen stones. "Here! Over here!"

"Neville?" another voice cried.

"Yes! Harry!?"

The rubble suddenly shifted, pressing down on his ankle, and an agonising pain rocketed through him. He cried out involuntarily.

"Oh Merlin, sorry! Are you okay?" Hannah's voice reached him, apologetic and anxious, and Neville's heart soared at the sound of it.

"Yes, fine, don't worry about me! Do what you need to do to move the debris!"

"Fred?"

"Can you see Fred?"

The cries, distraught and urgent, came from Ron and Percy.

"Yes, he's here with me!" Neville called back.

They didn't ask if their brother was okay, which Neville was grateful for, because he didn't know what he'd say in reply; he'd been desperately trying not to think about how unnaturally quiet and still Fred Weasley had been whilst he'd been lying beside him.

* * *

"Theo – I'm sorry! I'm so sorry," Parvati was half sobbing, half yelling as they continued to fight yet more hooded figures.

They were slowly being backed onto the landing where Lavender and Trelawney were still making use of their supply of crystal balls. Theo was grimacing, but it was hard to tell if this was because of the masked men in front of them, or at the fact that the girl he'd finally allowed himself to trust had just killed his father.

Parvati's distress meant she wasn't focused on the fighting and didn't see a Death Eater cast a jet of purple light at her. Her left leg suddenly felt like it was on fire, and her knees buckled as she collapsed to the floor. She saw with relief that her leg was not actually on fire, but that blood was pouring from a wound on her calf.

Theo dived down next to her, and in an urgent succession of spells, cut her tights from her leg and started mumbling a healing charm. But a figure was scurrying towards them, with greasy hair tired in a ponytail and baring yellow teeth – large, pointy yellow teeth that did not belong to a human. He – _it_ – made to pounce on Theo–

" _Impedimenta_!"

Parvati would have recognised the yell of Lavender's voice anywhere. Her hex sent the man flying through the air and, mercifully, away from Theo.

"Greyback!" Theo exclaimed, as the man rose to his feet and looked with dark, intent eyes at Lavender.

"You little bitch!" Greyback snarled. "Revenge will be mine – and it will be sweet. I can smell your blood from here!"

And in one terrifyingly swift movement, he scampered forwards and pounced on Lavender with such power that the force of it propelled them both over the bannisters and down into the chaos of battle below.

* * *

Neville wasn't sure how Ginny had got there, just after they'd managed to pull Fred's body from the wreckage. The fallen Weasley's eyes stared skyward, unseeing, as Percy leant over his brother's body, sobbing desperately. Ginny stood frozen beside Neville, her normally flushed cheeks pale. Then she was spoke, calmly and quietly, but the words she uttered didn't make sense to him.

"Her Boggart. It's mum's Boggart, Neville. It's here."

* * *

Lavender's body fell like a rag doll's.

Parvati watched, helpless, as her friend hit the ground like a sack of stones. Lavender stayed ominously still as Greyback scurried towards her, bent down and sank his teeth into her neck. Parvati made to move – to stop the werewolf – but pain from her injured calf seared through her body and caused her legs to buckle beneath her.

Suddenly there was a cry, seemingly from thin air : " _No_!" – and Greyback was flung back and away from Lavender. He hit the wall a few feet away and sank, unconscious, to the ground.

Parvati looked in the direction of the cry but couldn't see anyone, except...maybe...she blinked, attempting to clear her vision, thinking she'd started to hallucinate. But no, she was certain she saw them: three pairs of disembodied trainers running out of the entrance of the castle.

* * *

When Voldemort's voice reverberated around the castle for a second time, Neville was grasping hold of a huge Venomous Tentacula, which had started to weave itself around several Death Eaters at once, imprisoning them in a cage of it's branches. The cries of terror and the cracks of curses quickly fell silent at the chilling sound of the dark wizard's voice.

"You have fought," people stood still, as if the words themselves had the power to freeze them, "Valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery.

"Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a waste.

"Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat, immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then the battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself. Harry Potter, I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman and child who had tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

The Death Eaters around Neville, those that hadn't succumbed to the encroaching vines of the Tentacular, Disapparated in swirls of black clouds.

Neville dropped the plant to the floor, took a deep breath in order to steady his breathing, and lowered his wand as he looked around him, taking in the destruction the battle had wrought and the numerous bodies that now littered the halls of Hogwarts.

* * *

As the Death Eaters Disapparated around them and the sounds of battle quieted, Parvati turned to Theo and grasped at his shoulders. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I _–_ I killed your father," she sobbed.

They hadn't had a chance to talk about it since she'd cast the killing curse, and she felt a strange sense of relief at saying the words again, as if she were confessing. Which, in a way, she supposed she was.

"Hey, hey, hey," Theo said gently, placing one hand on her waist and softly cupping her jaw with the other. She noticed, as he did so, that the red criss-cross marks of the Unbreakable Vow had disappeared. "Listen to me: he was my father in name only. I grieved having a _real_ father years ago _–_ "

"I can't _–_ it feels so cold _–_ " Now that the adrenaline of fighting a battle was dissipating, Parvati was starting to feel an icy chill travel through her veins.

"That feeling will go with time. Listen: don't start hating yourself for this. Don't start thinking you're bad or wrong or corrupted in some way. I spent years doing that and it will only eat you up inside. What you did _–_ you were protecting me _–_ and protecting all those people he would no doubt have gone on to hurt _–_ that was a _good_ thing."

Parvati brushed the tears away from her cheeks and looked into Theo's earnest eyes. The tight knot of guilt and anguish she'd been feeling was starting to unwind. She took a deep breath.

"I love you. You know that, right?" Theo said quietly.

It was the first time he'd said the words out loud. He'd told her in so many other ways _–_ with the spark of his eyes, the touch of his lips, the way he moved inside her _–_ but he'd never said the words. She felt them warming the ice in her blood. She nodded and found herself smiling.

"And I love you," she replied.

All manner of emotions seemed to cross Theo's face, so fast that Parvati couldn't read them. He nodded shortly and, noticing the glisten of his eyes, Parvati realised that he couldn't talk, or he'd cry too. So instead, she leaned towards him and pressed her lips to his in a slow, lingering kiss.

When she pulled away, the reality of their situation came crashing back into her awareness.

"Will you help me find Lavender?" she asked.

"Of course."

Theo took her hand, and together they gingerly descended the partly-demolished stairs to the ground floor.

* * *

It was too much for Neville in the Great Hall. There was too much opportunity in that great, ancient room to think. When he saw the Weasley family, united but at the same time irrevocably torn apart with grief, something in him seemed to fracture, and he worried that he would finally break.

"Neville! Oh Neville dear!" a familiar voice cried, and the smell of elderflower and musk engulfed his nostrils as his gran pulled him to her in a tight hug. He instinctively reciprocated it, quickly processing the fact she was here – of course she would be – and had been fighting – of course she would have been. His gran clasped his jaw, tilting his head up so she could look down on him with intense eyes.

"Neville, I'm so, _so_ proud of you!" she declared earnestly. Neville had never heard her say those words to him with such fervour. "You've been so brave! You are _such_ a great wizard, so much like your father!"

The words seemed to travel inside him, sealing the fractures that had formed in the last hours of the battle, that had been threatening to break him apart like cracked earth in a drought. He nodded, for he had no words in that moment, and his gran seemed to understand.

"Nev," Ginny had approached them, her eyes bloodshot and cheeks damp. "I can't stay in here – I need to keep doing something. They need people to search for – for people that might be hurt."

Neville nodded. "I'll come too," and he followed Ginny out the hall to try and rescue the injured, and recover the bodies of those that were beyond help.

As they walked through the wreckage in the main courtyard outside, Ginny spotted something lying on the ground and half-ran to it, crouching down by a girl with fair hair who was half buried in the rubble.

"I want my mum. Please..." the girl was whimpering.

"It's okay, Izzy, we'll get you inside soon," Ginny reassured.

"But I want to go home. I don't want to fight anymore."

"Neville," Oliver Wood was standing by Neville's side, with his face streaked with dirt and a bloody gash to his forehead. "Will you give me a hand on the first floor?"

They found Colin Creevey's body not far from the first floor landing. His face was pale but looked strangely peaceful. A jolt of anger surged through Neville, because Colin should not have been here – a _child_ should not have been here. Wordlessly, Oliver and Neville picked him up and started to carry him to the Great Hall. At the Entrance Hall, Neville stumbled.

"You know what?" Oliver said gently, seeming to sense Neville's exhaustion. "I can manage alone, Neville."

Oliver effortlessly hauled Colin's tiny body up over his shoulder and carried him into the hall. Neville leaned against the doorframe, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, allowing himself a moment's reprieve before heading back outside into the courtyard.

As he bent over another body, he heard someone say his name, literally out of thin air.

"Neville."

He jumped and turned, startled to see that Harry had appeared by his side. His friend looked different from even just a few hours earlier – older somehow, resigned, and wiser – as if he had a knowledge weighing on him as heavy as a Hippogriff.

"Blimey Harry, you nearly gave me heart failure!" And then Neville thought of how he hadn't seen Harry since the start of the ceasefire and the chilling words of Voldemort came back to him: _I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you... I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then the battle recommences._ A suspicion grew in Neville like a stubborn weed. "Where are you going, alone?"

"It's all part of the plan. There's something I've got to do. Listen – Neville–"

His friend's dismissive words only fed Neville's suspicions. Neville knew that if there was one thing Harry Potter hated, it was his loved ones suffering on his behalf. But couldn't Harry see that Voldemort knew this too, and was trying to use it to his advantage?

"Harry! Harry, you're not thinking of handing yourself over?"

"No. 'Course not…this is something else. But I might be out of sight for a while. You know Voldemort's snake, Neville? He's got a huge snake...calls it Nagini…"

"I've heard, yeah...what about it?"

"It's got to be killed. Ron and Hermione know that, but just in case they–" Harry faltered as his voice broke, but then he seemed to gather himself again. "Just in case they're – busy – and you get the chance–"

Neville sensed the desperate importance in Harry's request.

"Kill the snake?"

"Kill the snake," Harry repeated. Then he fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a small vial filled with clear liquid. "You should take this too."

"What is it?" Neville asked, taking the vial and frowning at it quizzically.

"Memories," Harry replied. "You can view them in the Pensieve in the headmaster's office. You can get in there easily – the gargoyles are as good as dust."

"All right, Harry," But Neville's suspensions about where Harry was going hadn't died. "You're okay, are you?"

"I'm fine. Thanks, Neville." Harry's words were far from convincing.

As Harry turned to go, Neville reached out and instinctively grasped his wrist.

"We're all going to keep fighting, Harry. You know that?"

"Yeah, I–" But Harry's voice broke again and Neville understood full well the emotions that his friend was trying to hold back. He reached out and patted Harry on the shoulder before the Boy-Who-Lived turned and made himself invisible once more.

* * *

Harry was right – the gargoyles lay fallen, cracked and ultimately redundant, leaving Neville free to ascend to the headmaster's office unencumbered.

The Pensieve stood in the centre of the room, as if waiting for him. Neville undid the clasp of the vial and poured the tears into the bowl, wondering with an intense curiosity who had cried them. He hadn't used a Pensieve before, but they'd studied them, and the process didn't sound particularly complicated.

He took a deep breath, leant down and plunged his head into the magical swirls of liquid that made up the contents of the bowl. He suddenly felt like he was falling through space and landed clumsily on the floor of the headmaster's office. Disappointed, Neville initially thought it hadn't worked.

But as he got to his feet, he noticed that the sun was streaming through the windows of the room, and the leaves of the Forbidden Forest in the distance were green and full; it looked like it was the end of summer. Neville flinched as he saw Snape standing by his desk, looking up at the portrait of Dumbledore, and had to remind himself that this was a mere memory, and Snape could not hurt him.

"So there was no getting around this? The Carrows will be teaching at the school this year?" Dumbledore was asking solemnly.

"Yes, they will be," Snape replied gravely. "I tried to discourage the Dark Lord of it, but there was only so much I could do without arousing his suspicions."

"And you must not arouse suspicion, Severus. Especially not now. He must continue to think you are loyal to him."

"Yes, I am fully aware of that," Snape bit out, sitting down in his chair in a sullen, impatient movement.

"You remember what you promised me, Snape?" Dumbledore asked, a hint of urgency in his voice.

"To protect the students of this school," Snape replied. Neville's stomach flipped confusingly, as Snape looked boldly up at Dumbledore's portrait, and continued clearly, "and I have every intention of honouring that promise."

Neville's heart plummeted to somewhere near his feet as the realisation of what he was hearing hit him. Snape. Snape had been loyal to Dumbledore the whole time - he had been _protecting_ the students of Hogwarts.

Neville stood stock still as he waited for the next scene to unfold and to watch the last, terrible year of his schooling through the eyes of the teacher he'd always hated.

* * *

 **Notes** : As always, I'd love to know what you think! Your comments are loved and treasured.


	50. Always

A/N:

Yikes! The penultimate chapter!  
This chapter is a little digression from the battle action but it's one of my favourite chapters of this story and I hope you love it too. I'd love to know what you think!

* * *

 _'"He believes the school will soon be in his grasp, yes."_

 _"And if it does fall into his grasp," said Dumbledore. "I have your word that you will do all in your power to protect the students of Hogwarts?"_

 _Snape gave a stiff nod._

 _"Good."_

 _-_ Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

* * *

Neville waited as the headmaster's office in front of him morphed before solidifying again. The branches of the trees of the Forbidden Forest seemed less full than before; it seemed it was the beginning of autumn. Again, Snape stood, looking up at the portrait of Dumbledore as the old man spoke to him in solemn tones.

"Minerva has managed to persuade the Carrows that student participation in the Purification Ceremony will be _voluntary_ and not compulsory?"

Snape's eyes shifted to the other portraits lining the walls of the room and lingered on that of Phineas Black, before returning to Dumbledore's.

"Is it...prudent to converse with you like this, Dumbledore? Considering...the walls have ears?" he asked so quietly that only Dumbledore could hear.

The ex-headmaster replied in an equally low voice. "There is an ancient magic which bonds all those who inhabit the portraits of Hogwarts to loyalty to the school. Or, more accurately, to the safety of the school's students. They cannot share anything they hear with anyone if there is any possibility that it will endanger the students, or lead to consequences in which students may be harmed. So I think it will be safe to converse, yes, Severus..."

"Then regarding the Purification Ceremony, yes, Minerva was rather insistent that students are not _made_ to participate," Snape replied gravely. "Perhaps foolishly insistent. If she's any more forceful, she may be made to leave the school."

Dumbledore pursed his lips in apparent agreement. "She keeps a small portrait of me in her chambers. I will talk to her…tell her that, indeed, she must endeavor to protect her students but she must not get herself fired…. And you, Severus, you did not try and dissuade the Carrows of this ceremony? They cannot suspect you, remember."

"No, no, I gave it my full support," Snape said bitterly, then started pacing back and forth agitatedly. "Burning books! It's barbarous! Such philistines!"

"You know some students won't stand for this, don't you Severus?" Dumbledore reflected calmly.

"You mean those show-off Gryffindors? You anticipate the Weasley girl and her friends will try and play hero as always?" Snapes's tone was characteristically sneering.

"I was thinking more of the Ravenclaws."

Snape halted in his pacing and looked sharply up at his predecessor.

"The burning of books, Severus," Dumbledore explained quietly. "It will be like a violation of the very soul of their very house."

Snape looked downcast. "Yes. I see."

"But they are not used to rebelling, those of wit and learning," Dumbledore continued. "It may be a clumsy attempt at a revolt and I fear the Carrows' retribution." There was a pause as Snape looked up at Dumbledore's portrait, waiting for the man to continue. "So intervene if you must _–_ if Amycus loses control, which he seems adept at doing."

"What do you suppose I do?"

"Just try and draw the whole matter to a swift close," Dumbledore advised softly.

Snape inclined his head in reluctant agreement...

The edges of the room shifted and shimmered, and Neville felt Snape's memories careen forwards.

"And they will administer this punishment on all the students who refused to take part in the book burning?" Dumbledore was asking, his hands pressed together as if in prayer, the tips of his fingers positioned under his chin.

Snape was sitting in the headmaster's chair, facing Dumbledore's portrait. He looked downcast in a way that Neville hadn't seen before.

"Yes," Snape stated regretfully. "I don't think there's any stopping it. The Dark Lord himself suggested the nature of the punishment. He even spent time teaching Alecto the cutting curse."

"And you think she can perform it proficiently?" Dumbledore asked sceptically. "It is an very advanced piece of dark magic."

"Not to the standard the Dark Lord can. I think its potency will fade with time…"

"Does Madam Pomfrey have an adequate supply of murtlap and dittany?"

"She has a limited amount of murtlap, which I feel confident she can get to the students after the punishment will be administered. The Carrows and I have been ordered to clear all dittany and murtlap from the Potions classrooms. But I have some in my private stores, and I have left a bottle in one of the storerooms, unbeknownst to Slughorn…I am hoping that one of your gang of followers will get their hands on it _–_ possibly Terry Boot. But that's besides the point _–_ normal healing potions will help a little but not to a significant extent...we will just have to hope it will lose its potency over time…"

Edges blurred, the teachers' voices became muffled, then everything sharpened again…

Snape was staring out the window of the office, at the trees of the Forbidden Forest, the branches of which were now almost bare.

"The foolish children have reformed their previous _illegal_ defence club! Your little _Army_ as they call it!" Snape was saying agitatedly through clenched teeth.

"Ah!" Dumbledore's lips curled up at the corners and his eyes managed to twinkle, despite the fact this version of him was made of nothing but oil paints. "And what, if anything, will you do about this?"

Snape gave Dumbledore a quick glance, his eyes narrowed. "The Carrows do not know of it. Some of the IS have tried to tell them about the Come-And-Go Room, or Room of Requirement, and they have tried to search for the entrance but to no avail. It seems they _–_ Longbottom in particular _–_ have a powerful connection to the room's magic and are able to ensure that it keeps them safe. And I continually dismiss the suspicions when the IS raise them, and assure the Carrows it is all nonsense…"

"Very good, Severus, very good," Dumbledore's tone was placating.

"But _really_. Even the Hufflepuffs are being ridiculously reckless. The Abbott girl put herself on the wrong side of Alecto on the first day of lessons by asking unnecessarily challenging questions."

Dumbledore's lips raised into a small smile. "A sense of justice and a fierce compassion. These are the tenants of Hufflepuff House, Severus. Indeed, I rather think that the Hufflepuff's are more likely to fight Voldemort's regime than anyone..."

The room spun dizzyingly, then righted itself… Snape was striding away from a pile of shattered glass and wood in the corner of the office and towards his desk, on which lay the Sword of Gryffindor.

"Did you converse with the foolish children when they attempted to take the Sword?" Snape spat out, looking up at Dumbledore, his gaze fierce.

"I did, Severus," Dumbledore replied calmly. "I tried to dissuade them from their endeavour but they are some of the bravest and most determined students in this school."

"Foolhardy and stubborn, more like it," Snape retorted.

"What will you administer as their 'more proportional punishment', as you put it? Remember, it cannot seem too lenient _–_ you need to keep your cover. Perhaps _–_ a night in the Forbidden Forest? Wandless? With Hagrid?" Dumbledore suggested lightly, his eyebrows raised suggestively.

"Well… that would seem terrifying enough to the Carrows, and to most students."

"But not to _those_ three students. Miss Lovegood is familiar with the forest from her trips to feed the Thestrals, and in her searches for rare creatures, and Miss Weasley and Mr. Longbottom will find comfort in Hagrid's presence."

"And his pink umbrella, no doubt?" Snape sneered.

Dumbledore gave a small, knowing smile. "Indeed. But also, and this is most important Severus: tell Hagrid to go to the clearing south-east of the Blue Mountain. I think they will find something they need there…"

Lines blurred and shapes distorted, before becoming clear again. The wall sconces around the room were lit, in an apparent attempt to keep the dreariness of the evening at bay _–_ the sky outside was a dark grey and sheets of rain hammered down on the windows.

Dumbledore was frowning down at Snape who was sitting at his desk with a short tumbler of amber liquid in his hand.

"You could not stop Alecto from mutilating the Finnigan boy's hand?" Dumbledore asked, his voice melancholic. "This is…this is barbarous, Severus…."

Snape rubbed his hand across his forehead, his eyes squinting shut as if trying to block out an external source of pain. "I was out of the school at the time, as you well know. The Dark Lord is increasingly requesting my presence. There is little I can do _–_ I cannot refuse him _–_ and I cannot be in two places at once. When I returned to the school, it had already happened. I will try and rein in Alecto, remind her that the Dark Lord does not want magical blood spilled unless it is a last resort, and order that she should come to me before she uses such punishments again. But really, if your Army of students did not insist on being so stubbornly rebellious, this would not happen..."

The room shifted once more. When it righted itself, Neville saw from the window that a carpet of snow was laid across the grounds of Hogwarts.

"The man is a _buffoon!_ " Snape was pacing agitatedly around the room. "Organising a party! In the Forbidden _Forest!_ And calling it, of all things, a 'Support Harry _Potter_ Party'!"

Neville couldn't help snorting at Snape's scathing indignation.

"And so? Did the guests get away from the forest unharmed after they were so rudely interrupted?" Dumbledore asked with a hint of amusement, as if he were asking a neighbour about the local gossip.

"Yes, although that excuse for a groundskeeper was chased deeper into the forest. I think it best if he doesn't return for now," Snape replied, then continued in a quieter tone, as if talking to himself. Which, in a way, he was. "But some of these students _–_ Flint and Crabbe in particular _–_ I worry that they are becoming somewhat brutalised. I have heard nasty rumours of what they have attempted to do to other students...I think they feel they may have impunity..."

The room's boundaries blurred once more, before returning to normal.

"Severus," Dumbledore was saying. "I have just spoken to my brother. He has agreed that, if Miss Edgecombe makes it safely to his pub, he will keep her safe until an Order member comes for her."

Snape's lip curled into a smirk. "And how do you suppose she gets to the Hog's Head? She has not been granted permission to visit the village for Hogsmeade at the weekend. Besides, those students that _are_ allowed are watched too closely to be able to do such a thing."

Dumbledore merely raised his eyebrows expectantly in response.

"You wish me to accompany her?" Snape guessed in a resigned tone.

"Yes," Dumbledore stated with calm finality. "And to also, in future, accompany any other student that may be in dire need of escaping Voldemort's regime. Think of the abuse that poor girl is suffering, Severus. Accompany them to the pub door, then they will enter by themselves, after you have Obliviated their memories of your help. They must ask for an elderflower cordial at the bar. Aberforth will take it from there. I think it must be you though, Severus. Any other teacher is under too much scrutiny from the Carrows to be able to accomplish it."

"Fine," Snape conceded through clenched teeth.

The scene changed once more.

Snape was sitting at his desk, quill in hand, writing furiously on a piece of parchment, when there was a sudden movement from one of the portraits on the wall. Lord Cadogan had rode hurriedly into the frame, before halting his horse abruptly.

"Oh, Wise Master of this Ancient House of Learning!" the Lord began. Snape gave Cadogan an unimpressed but quizzical expression. "Foul play is afoot! Villainy in the form of three young students, who seek to harm another young sire, who is _innocent!_ Some fair knights nearly saved the boy from his fate but, alas, they were slain _–_ "

"Speak _English_ , for Salazar's sake!" Snape snapped. " _What_ are you talking about?"

Lord Cadogan looked affronted, but continued in a less pompous tone: "Three students, sir, have conducted some kind of _mock_ trial on another student, who it appears they think is a Muggleborn. They have harmed the fellow and have snapped his wand in two. Those of Dumbledore's Army happened upon them, but they have all been Petrified. And then, as I left, some approached from the house of Slytherin _–_ "

"Who? Who in particular?" Snape clipped urgently.

"Young Malfoy, Nott and Zabini."

Snape's shoulders slumped and he visibly relaxed. He nodded shortly. "Right. Cadogan, go to McGonagall's _–_ to a portrait in her study, she should be there now, and inform her of this. Encourage her to intervene, and then report back to me."

Lord Cadogan doffed his hat in acknowledgement, and turned his horse. "I will not fail you in this quest, sir!" he called as he rode out the frame.

Once he left, Snape picked up his quill once more, but instead of writing he stared blindly down, his forehead creased in worry, at the parchment before him...

Once more, the room's boundaries shimmered disorientatingly, before sharpening again. The late afternoon sun shone through the windows. It felt warmer in the room and Neville supposed it must be spring.

Theodore Nott stood at the door of Snape's office, as if about to leave it. Snape was looking at him sternly.

"Remember Theodore, in the name of Salazar, heed my words and end things with this girl."

"Yes sir," Theo murmured coldly, before quietly leaving.

A few moments after Nott had left, Dumbledore broke the silence. "You were very concerned that young Nott understand what his trigger was," Dumbledore observed. Snape spun around in his chair and glared at his predecessor before Dumbledore continued, unfazed by Snape's hostility. "You seem to care for the boy. Ever since he started school, and you initiated your meetings with him _–_ to discuss potions, if I recall correctly. And you've been so very good to him in helping him understand...his difficulties."

"What of it?" Snape snapped.

Dumbledore shrugged nonchalantly. Instead of answering Snape's question, he continued in the same thoughtful tone, "Young Theodore reminds me of someone. Another young Slytherin I once taught. He was also reserved, polite, intelligent and academically inclined, and had not had the nurturing one needs in order to have the confidence in their own ability to be good."

Snape huffed dismissively, and started tidying some books up on his desk. "He should have known better! The boy was out of control and clearly not thinking rationally!"

"And in love, it seems. They often come hand-in-hand, I find." Dumbledore said somewhat wistfully.

Snape seemed to flinch, before gathering himself again. "Well…he has been foolish to let himself fall in love in such a way. It can only end in heartbreak, as I said, and/or it will make him vulnerable to the Dark Lord's wrath. A Slytherin _–_ a _Nott –_ falling in love with a Potter-supporting _Gryffindor ..._ "

"I do not think he is the first Slytherin to have done that kind of thing, Snape. As I said, he really rather does remind me of someone…."

The room shifted and blurred once more, before becoming clear again.

Snape strode agitatedly into his office and halted abruptly at his desk, flinging a piece of parchment onto it before looking up at Dumbledore's portrait.

"It seems that the Dark Lord has finally had enough of Augusta Longbottom. I've just had word that he's sending Rowle and Dolohov here - now - to take away her grandson."

Dumbledore looked grave. "You cannot let them, Severus. I know you have never liked the boy, but he must not be taken. Not least because he's the one holding those resistant students together. With his actions, he gives those that are scared hope."

Neville's heart clenched as he heard his old headmaster's words.

Snape gave a disgruntled sound of agreement. "I could warn Sprout or McGonagall but it would be hard to do so without giving myself away… And there really isn't time...Longbottom's in his Dark Arts lesson now. I cannot call him out _–_ it will look far too obvious."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "The Patil twins _–_ they have a mind talking bond, do they not?"

"I have often suspected such," Snape agreed.

"Then maybe, go to Padma's class _–_ she will be in Charms, I think _–_ and try and warn her subtly. She could then alert her twin."

"That all sounds rather convoluted," Snape replied doubtfully.

"Yes. Yes, I do not disagree. But I think it is the best we can do at short notice without you giving yourself away."

After a moment, Snape nodded shortly. "I will tell Flitwick his Charm's skills are wanted immediately for vanishing some of the old graffiti made by those tiresome students… it still reappears occasionally, you know…then I will cover his class..." Snape was still talking as he strode from the room.

The muffled sound of shouting reached Neville's ears, and his heart lurched urgently. He'd been so entranced by Snape's memories that he'd forgotten he was in the midst of a ceasefire. He lifted his head out the Pensieve, gasping for breath, his mind reeling from what he'd just seen and heard.

But he didn't have time to think further on it, for the sounds of shouting got louder. He ran to the windows of the office, which looked out onto the front of the castle. Marching up the hill to the school was a large group of people, all clothed in black robes. From so far away, Neville couldn't make out the features of the person that was leading the procession, but their face shone in the early morning light, pale and white. Next to him walked an unusually large figure, whose gait reminded Neville disconcerting of Hagrid, and who was carrying someone in his arms.

Neville's ankle still hurt from when it'd been crushed under the rubble of the castle and so he performed a kind of half-run, half-limp down the stairs of the headmaster's office and through the devastated corridors of Hogwarts, blasting piles of rubble out of his way as he did so. He tried not to look at the motionless bodies that were yet to be recovered from the wreckage.

As he neared the entrance of the castle, the cries and shouts grew louder. He shoved his way through the crowd that had gathered on the steps of the school and finally got to the front. The parade of people that he'd seen from Snape's window were entering the courtyard, and Neville could see that, yes, it was Hagrid at the front of the group. Then his stomach turned nauseatingly, because now he could see more clearly who was cradled in the giant's arms: a young man, shorter than Neville, with dark black hair and glasses perched precariously on his nose.

 _No. No_! Neville's mind refused to believe what his eyes were seeing.

Ron and Hermione propelled themselves to the front of the crowd alongside Neville. As the realisation of who Hagrid was carrying rippled through the group, a succession of cries of pain, and yells of disbelief, pierced the early morning air. But it was Ginny's cry that cemented Neville's fear _–_ of who was in Hagrid's arms. It was shrill and wrought with despair.

"Harry! _Harry_!" Ginny's voice broke as it morphed into wail, a sob.

"Silence!" cried the man _–_ the monster _–_ that must be Voldemort. His eyes were red slits, his face paler than the moon and something long and writhing hung around his neck _–_ a snake. There was a bang, a flash of white light and Neville felt his lips press together as if someone had glued his mouth shut. Voldemort had silenced them all. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"

Neville watched as Hagrid laid the body he'd been carrying down on the cobbles.

Voldemort's cry, cold and chillingly, rang with unmistakable triumph: "You see? Harry Potter is _dead!"_

The ground reeled beneath Neville's feet, everything felt dizzyingly surreal, and Neville thought: this must be what it feels like when the world ends.

* * *

Notes: Thanks Rachael and IKEAwhatyoudidthere for your help with this story.  
As always, you thoughts and reviews are LOVED! I's love to know what you think of Snape!


	51. Where Books Are Burned

**A/N:**

Sorry for the delay in posting this. I work in the National Health Service in the UK and so things in the time of Covid-19 have been crazy.

But - yikes! This is it - the end! Just an epilogue after this which answers the question of 'what happened to Lavender Brown?'

I wanted to say a huge thank you everyone that's followed this, to everyone that's ever left a comment letting me know you've been reading. A particular thank you to lemondrizzlecake and kjlamb 1020, who have been such consistent reviewers - thank you so much - I love you both for it! Posting this has been quite hard at times as the feedback has felt sparse, and I was really not sure if anyone was reading this on occasions. Hence, every comment means a lot. Likewise, if you've got this far, I would really love to hear what you think!

I will be posting the epilogue this weekend.

Much of the dialogue of the first half of this chapter is taken directly from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

* * *

 **Ch. 51 Where Books Are Burned...**

 _'The odd thing is, Harry,' [Dumbledore] said softly, 'that it may not have meant you at all. Sybil's prophecy could have applied to two wizard boys, born at the end of July that year, both of whom had parents in the Order of the Phoenix, both sets of parents having narrowly escaped Voldemort three times. One, of course was you. The other was Neville Longbottom.'_

 _-_ Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

* * *

Neville's thoughts raced disorientingly. He couldn't see. He felt sick. He thought he might faint. Harry was dead. Dead.

"Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!" Voldemort cried out.

The words sickened Neville. He felt the glue-like force that had been sticking his lips together loosen.

"He beat you!" Ron yelled from somewhere behind Neville; Voldemort's silencing charm must have broken for all of them. As a result, the defenders of the castle burst out into a cacophony of screaming and shouting, before Voldemort waved his wand and Neville felt the force of another silencing spell bind his lips together.

Neville sensed the weight of despair and defeat settle over the crowd, but he refused to be bowed. Harry had been special, yes, but why? Because of some ancient, unknown magic that had saved him from the killing curse. The magic of a mother's love, apparently _–_ that's what Neville had heard. And love was something those that had fought for the Light had in spades.

They couldn't let this belief in one saviour defeat them, because Voldemort was just a man _–_ immensely dark and terrifyingly talented _–_ but Tom Riddle was still just a man, wasn't he? A man that had built a cult of fear so powerful that he'd convinced people that he couldn't be beaten. But Harry had given them all hope. And although that's what Neville had clung onto through the Carrows' reign of the school, it wasn't Harry that had helped him get through it in the end _–_ it was his other friends and allies, some _–_ many _–_ of whom were still here, still alive. It was the hope that things could be better, and that the dark could be defeated. Hope and friendship had been Neville's most powerful weapon, and it remained so.

"He was killed whilst trying to sneak out the castle grounds," Voldemort continued gleefully. "Killed while trying to save himself!"

 _Lies_. Neville knew they were lies. Something primal inside him raged at the injustice of the words.

And the lion in Neville _roared_.

He found himself charging through the crowd, his broken ankle forgotten, and with his wand pointed at Voldemort. There was a bang and a flash of light and Neville felt his wand leave his hand and his body propelled backwards before he landed with a painful thump on his back.

"And who is this?" Voldemort asked, his voice dangerously soft. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"

An awful cackle came from the crowd of Death Eaters and Neville felt bile rise in his throat as he saw his parents' torturer laughing mirthfully, her face framed in wild black hair.

"It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?"

"Ah yes, I remember," Voldemort replied.

Neville struggled to his feet and stood, wandless and alone, in the space between the Light and the Dark. The lion in him growled.

"So what if I am?" Neville was grateful that his voice carried loud and steadily through the evening air.

"You show spirit, and bravery and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."

Neville almost laughed at the absurdity of the notion that he would ever step over to Voldemort's side.

"I'll join you when hell freezes over. Dumbledore's Army!" he yelled. He felt buoyed to hear an answering cry from the crowd behind him; Voldemort's silencing charms seemed to have failed again.

"Very well," Voldemort said, his voice ominously soft. "If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head be it."

Neville stood, his heart pounding in his ears, as Voldemort summoned the Sorting Hat, of all things, out from where it had been buried in the castle ruins. It landed neatly in the dark wizard's hands.

"There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School," Voldemort proclaimed. "There will be no more houses. The emblem, shield and colours of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin will suffice for everyone, won't they, Neville Longbottom?"

He pointed his wand at Neville and Neville felt his muscles stiffen. He could no longer move. Then Voldemort was making the hat fly through the air towards Neville until it landed on his head and pushed down with uncomfortable force so it covered his eyes. The world went black but Neville was powerless to do anything. He heard movement from the crowd behind him, but then sensed the non-verbal spells of the Death Eaters paralyse the group.

"Neville here is going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to oppose me," Voldemort declared.

And then the world was on fire.

At least, that's what it felt like. His head burned with an intense heat and Neville realised, to his horror, that Tom Riddle had set the Sorting Hat alight as it sat on top of his head. Screams rent the air as Neville desperately tried to move; he tried to concentrate as much as possible on rousing the muscles of his arms and legs, but to no avail.

The screams of the crowd behind him were joined by a huge uproar, a cacophony of sound. It seemed as if hundreds of people were running into the grounds of the castle, and Neville heard a combative, determined, united cry. He felt the vibrations of lumbering giants' feet, the clipping sound of hooves on cobbles and the twangs of what must have been tens of arrows being released from bows.

Neville felt the cooling effect of the flames of the Hat die and suddenly, to his relief, he could move again. He reached up and swiped the Hat from his head and in so doing, saw something silver and gleaming under its rim. Instinctively, he reached inside and drew from the depths of the Hat something heavy and cold, something that he'd held only once before, but which felt uncannily familiar despite that. He dropped the Hat so he could grasp the object in both his hands and raised it high above his head.

The Sword of Gryffindor glinted in the morning sunlight. Its magic rippled through Neville's skin, into the tissue and bones of his hands, as if it was fusing with him, becoming an extension of his limb, a part of him.

 _Kill the snake._ Harry's words echoed through his mind.

The snake was arching and slithering away from Voldemort's neck and with a force Neville hadn't known he'd possessed, he brought the Sword down, cutting easily through the neck of the serpent. The head came away in one clean swipe and spun through the air, before landing with a thump on the ground.

Neville saw Voldemort open his mouth in torment but barely heard his scream through the triumphant cries of those that had witnessed the attack, the galloping hooves of centaurs and the clashing of spells.

Voldemort, his slit eyes glaring furiously at Neville, reached for his wand and Neville felt a rising panic before noticing the shimmer of a shield charm separate him from the dark wizard.

"Harry!" Hagrid was yelling. "Harry - WHERE'S HARRY?"

Neville kept hold of the sword in one hand whilst reaching for his wand in the other. The Sword still felt like an extension of him, light and natural, and so he continued to fight, casting spells in one hand and swiping with the huge blade with the other. It seemed to know what to do before Neville even did, and he couldn't help wondering at the weapon's magic.

* * *

Theo had been about to give up hope. As he stood among the dismayed crowd on the steps of Hogwarts School, his mind started reeling _–_ about how he could keep Parvati safe _–_ and Daphne too _–_ about how and when they could escape, assuming Voldemort would now claim power.

But then, as the Sorting Hat was set ablaze on top Longbottom's head, a hundred or so witches and wizards streamed towards the scene, all blasting curses towards the Death Eaters. Then giants appeared _–_ seemingly on the side of the Light _–_ and Centaurs arrived, their arrows soaring high into the air before descending towards the frantically dispersing crowd of Death Eaters. The reinforcements grew in the form of Thestrals, and a hippogriff of all things, that started to scratch out the eyes of a hostile giant.

But it was the disappearance of Harry Potter's body that restored Theo's hope. Because it allowed him to wonder whether the Boy-Who-Lived had lived again.

The fight somehow moved inside the Great Hall, and he nearly got floored by a curse of Rowle's, but someone protected Theo from the Death Eater by casting a shield charm just in time. Theo looked around, searching for his defender, and his heart lurched as he saw Luna fighting Bellatrix LeStrange, alongside Ginny Weasley and Granger. A killing curse skimmed the Weasley girl's ear.

"Not my daughter, you BITCH!"

It was like fire and fury had been born out of Molly Weasley's very womb. She ran towards the scene, her wand erupting with a succession of curses as she began to duel Bellatrix.

The crowd fell to the side of the room, Theo and Parvati with them, as they watched the two women duel alongside Voldemort, who was duelling McGonagall, Slughorn and Shacklebolt.

Theo watched as Bellatrix goaded the Weasley matriarch about the death of her son, and thought again of how people like Bellatrix underestimated the ferocious rage of protection that a mother's love could conjure. Finally, Molly Weasley fired a curse that made the twisted sneer on Bellatrix's face freeze and her body stiffen as she fell to the ground, dead.

Voldemort screamed at the loss of his most devoted follower. He blasted his three adversaries backwards and turned to Molly.

"Protego!" the cry came out of nowhere. As Theo's eyes raked the Hall for the source of the cry, his heart lurched as Harry Potter appeared, seemingly out of thin air.

"Harry!"

"He's alive!"

It seemed he had, indeed, lived again. But the yells of joy and relief didn't last long, as Voldemort and Harry Potter started circling each other in the middle of the Hall. Theo instinctively reached for Parvati's hand; they'd managed to stay together for the entirety of the battle and he wasn't going to let that change now.

"I don't want anyone else to help," Potter declared loudly. The crowd quieted to a deathly silence. "It's got to be like this. It's got to be me."

Theo and the rest of the fighters stood watching as one of the darkest wizards of all time and a seventeen-year-old boy with a lightning bolt scar on his forehead continued to circle each other. A bolt of horrified realisation jolted through Theo as Potter talked about Horcruxes, as he explained to the corrupted soul of Tom Riddle about the power of love. About how it was the latter which meant the man who Voldemort thought was one of his most faithful servants had actually turned and worked against him, and finally, about the allegiance of the Elder Wand.

The morning sun rose above the ledges of the windows of the Great Hall, its rays momentarily blinding Theo, as the cries of spells, clear and final, rang through the air:

 _"Avada Kedavra!"_

 _"Expelliarmus!"_

A torrent of blinding light burst from both Potter's and Voldemort's wands; green collided with white in the centre of their circle in a dazzling explosion.

Theo watched, disbelieving but elated, as Voldemort's wand was wrenched from his hand and soared in a high arc through the air, rejecting the wizard it didn't recognise as its master. Potter caught it neatly in his hand as Voldemort fell backwards to the floor.

Theo felt it _–_ he felt it where the Dark Mark had been burned into his flesh. The chronic, insipid burning that he'd felt ever since he'd taken the Mark faded. With blissful relief, he felt the dark magic that tethered him to the mark dissipate and dissolve.

He knew then. He knew, without having to look at the blank face and shrunken body of the dark wizard that lay on the Hall floor, that Tom Riddle was finally dead.

* * *

"It's over?" Parvati turned to Theo, clenching his hand tightly, not wanting to believe it, lest she be bitterly disappointed if she were wrong, even as the hundreds gathered in the Great Hall cheered around them. She knew Padma was okay _–_ they'd kept in communication throughout the battle _–_ but she still couldn't allow herself to believe it was finally over.

Theo relinquished his hand from Parvati's and used it to roll up the sleeve of his left arm, revealing his Dark Mark. It was still there, but had faded somehow. Whereas before it had emitted an uncanny kind of magic to any who looked at it, now it looked innocuous, unremarkable even. It was enough to convince Parvati, and relief flooded her. They'd be okay _–_ Theo and her _–_ they would be okay now.

"It's over, Parvati. All of it," Theo reassured. "And _–_ no more hiding."

He grinned _–_ a real, genuine smile that Parvati had never seen before. And there, in the midst of the Great Hall, amongst his fellow students and teachers, and the captured Death Eaters who were too injured to Disapparate away, he kissed her.

* * *

Neville laid the Sword of Gryffindor down on one of the long tables that had been pushed to the side of the Hall. As if knowing there was no use for it now, it glimmered brightly for a moment before disappearing. Neville intuitively knew it had gone to where it would be safe.

He turned to see Seamus approaching him, bloodied and bruised, swiping a hand through his hair agitatedly, with Dean just behind him.

"Have you seen Lavender?" Seamus asked.

"No, mate," Neville replied regretfully. "Sorry. Last I heard she was fighting Greyback just before the ceasefire."

Seamus' frown deepened as he caught sight of something over Neville's shoulder. "What the fuck?!" he exclaimed, drawing his wand from his pocket.

Neville turned and saw what had outraged his friend so much: Parvati was engaged in an extremely deep kiss with Theodore Nott. Neville had only just registered his surprise when Seamus stepped towards them, pointing his wand at Nott's torso.

"Hey!" the Irish boy exclaimed indignantly.

The couple abruptly pulled back from their kiss and looked at Seamus in alarm. Nott eyed the boy's wand warily.

"Seamus, it's fine," a quiet voice said and Neville turned to see Padma approach. Another wave of surprise rolled over him as he saw that Padma's hand was clasped in Daphne Greengrass'. Both girls had dirt and ash smeared on their faces and hair, and Daphne had a bloodied bandage tied around her arm.

"Oh, sis!" Parvati rushed to Padma and pulled her to her in a tight hug.

"What. The hell. Is going on?" Seamus spat out, his wand darting between Nott and Daphne with every word.

"Seamus _–_ it's fine," Parvati repeated her twin's words. "They've been helping us the whole year. And they've just been fighting _–_ on our side!"

Parvati's word's triggered memories for Neville of his time in the dungeons: the reprieve that Nott had given him by temporarily extinguishing his Boggart, and how Parvati had been in the cell next door. He remembered how Parvati had inexplicably gotten the password for Snape's office, and had supplied them with information about what was going on outside.

"He was your source?" Neville asked.

Parvati smiled hesitantly, nodding. "Yes."

A small crowd had gathered around them, and there was a silence as the members of Dumbledore's Army took in the news. Seamus' arm loosened but he didn't lower his wand, and the crowd stood still and apprehensive as an air of hostility emitted from him.

It was Luna who broke the tension, by stepping forward and placing her hand gently on Seamus' arm. "I think we've all been fighting long enough now Seamus, don't you think? Maybe it's time to set your wand down."

Seamus' eyes flicked to Luna, then back to Nott. He nodded. "Fine," he bit out.

Parvati stepped towards Seamus hesitantly. "Shall we go and look for Lavender?" she suggested.

Seamus, his face still hard but eyes soft, nodded and followed Parvati and Nott out the room.

* * *

About an hour after Voldemort finally fell, Neville found himself walking out of the crumbling entrance of the castle with Luna and Ginny. They paused at the top of the steps and silently surveyed the destruction before them. They seemed to be the only living beings around, everyone having either found somewhere to rest, or else continuing to help the recovery effort.

The courtyard was eerily quiet, with wisps of smoke and used magic hanging in the air. In the growing light, the devastation that had been wrought by the battle was coming into sharper focus. The body of a giant lay across the cobbles, his legs buried under a collapsed wall, clutching in his hand the body of a Death Eater that no one had yet recovered.

Neville's knees suddenly weakened and he slumped down on the top step. Exhaustion seemed to be finally catching up with him. Wordlessly, Ginny sat down beside him, with Luna on her other side. The three exchanged small smiles, and Neville felt a complex mix of emotions: happiness that it was all finally over, relief that his two friends had survived it all with him, but a simmering foreboding as well, that came from the knowledge that not everyone had been as lucky.

He turned back to the courtyard and watched with detachment as a body burned in the dying flames of the battle's fires. Neville remembered the words Padma had spoken all those months ago, on the second day of the school year, in this very courtyard: 'Where books are burned, in the end, people will also be burned'.

"Where's Harry, Ron and Hermione?" Neville asked Ginny. He'd have thought Harry wouldn't leave Ginny's side after finally being reunited with her after all these months.

"He snuck off with Ron and Hermione. I think they had one last thing they had to do," Luna replied.

"Of course they did," Ginny retorted wryly.

"I'm sure he'll explain things to you," Neville said.

Ginny nodded. "He said he'd tell me everything. But I have stories to tell him too. Those three aren't the only ones who've been fighting this last year."

Neville found himself putting an arm around Ginny, and she in turn laid her head on his shoulder, as she reached out to Luna and the two girls interlinked their fingers together and clasped hands. The wordless gestures seemed enough for the three friends in that moment. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, looking out at the courtyard which housed seven years of memories for the three of them.

Neville could see the remnants of the far wall, where Harry, Ron and Hermione had huddled around the blue fires that Hermione made during chilly break-times; sometimes the three had let Neville into their tight circle. He remembered the spot where Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had tripped him up in his second year, causing his books to go flying and the plant he'd be carrying to smash to the ground, sparking a fight between the Slytherin boys and Seamus and Dean who'd been standing nearby and had witnessed it all. Neville eyed the shattered and scattered remains of the Phoenix statue, where the Hufflepuffs had stood giving pro-Cedric speeches during the Triwizard Tournament, their 'Potter stinks' badges flashing on their chests. Despite the fact she'd also worn one, Neville had still thought Hannah's hair was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen.

As his mind turned over these sweet and bitter memories, he felt someone come and sit by his side and take his hand wordlessly in hers. He knew without turning around, knew by the feel of her skin against his that it was Hannah. Over the next few moments, the four of them were joined by Padma and Daphne, and Susan, Ernie and Anthony, who came and sat quietly on the steps in front of them.

After another fifteen minutes or so, Seamus, Parvati and Nott came out and sat down with them. Seamus's shoulders sank defeatedly and Neville noticed Nott squeeze Parvati's hand.

"Any luck?" Padma asked

Parvati shook her head. "We can't find her anywhere."

"But there's still places we haven't looked _–_ they won't let us near half the castle, not until they've made it more stable," Seamus said, and Luna gave him an encouraging smile.

A few moments later, Terry came striding down the steps and turned to look back up at the group. His dirt-covered face looked bitter and wretched. He surveyed his fellow Army members, his lips trembling in the way they did when someone was trying to hold back tears. The group looked at him, waiting patiently.

"Michael didn't make it," he finally burst out. "I knew - I knew he was too weak form what the Carrows did to him - I knew he shouldn't have fought -"

His face collapsed and he was sobbing. Neville felt something break inside him. Anthony stood up and put his arms around Terry, mumbling words Neville couldn't hear, as he helped his friend sit down on the steps beside them. The group were quiet for some moments, the only sounds were the distant rumblings from inside the castle as people continued the recovery effort, and Terry's quiet sobs.

As the sun rose higher over the school, Terry's crying quietened and an odd kind of peace settled over the courtyard again. Then Luna raised her wand and a flock of kingfishers, in numerous shades of blue, burst from its end, flying high into the morning sky. As the group watched them, Neville remembered Michael's Patronus, and raised his wand to the sky too, conjuring a non-verba l Avis C harm. Numerous ruby and crimson kingfishers flew from his wand, up in dancing circles towards the sun. Then Terry and the rest of the group did the same _–_ they all raised their wands, sending a huge flock of the birds, in a myriad colours, up into the sky, in silent tribute to their fallen friend.

* * *

Neville wasn't sure how long the group sat there _–_ Luna had fallen asleep on Ginny's shoulder and some of the group had started to talk quietly amongst themselves _–_ when purposeful footsteps clattered down the steps beside them. Neville saw the swish of dark purple robes matted with dirt and blood go past him, before the feet stopped at the bottom of the steps and turned to face them.

He looked up with heavy eyelids and saw McGonagall looking up at them with a characteristically stern expression. She inhaled deeply, like she often did before starting a lecture in class, but then paused. The group waited in anticipation.

"You are all sitting," she said haughtily. "In a rather inconvenient place."

There was a momentary silence before a quiet chuckling rippled through the group of friends. By now, they had faced far more frightening things than McGonagall's chagrin. The teacher's eyes softened, and the side of her mouth turned up, as if she was sharing the joke.

"This is the main thoroughfare in and out of the school, and we will be using it greatly in the coming hours."

"Okay professor, we'll move," Padma responded politely. Tiredness must have been evident in Padma's voice because McGonagall's face softened and she smiled sadly.

"Have you all been checked by Madam Pomfrey and her Healer Helpers?" the teacher enquired.

There was a chorus of mumbled 'yes''.

"Well, if not, please see them to check any ailments. You must all be exhausted. There's a room set up for those to rest in, although you may prefer to go to _–_ " McGonagall stopped, as if interrupting herself. "There is a passage to the seventh floor that has been secured _–_ it should be safe to go there, if you must."

Neville's heart fluttered _–_ she must be talking about the Room of Requirement, and he realised there wasn't anywhere else he'd rather be, nor anyone else he'd rather be with than the people with him now.

As the group struggled to their feet and turned to traipse into the school, McGonagall spoke again.

"Just _–_ one more thing," the group turned and looked back at her. To his surprise, Neville thought he saw the glistening of tears in her eyes. "I did not want any of you to fight. I wanted to try and protect the students _–_ my students _–_ to the last. But I knew there would be no stopping you if I tried. Your actions all year had earned you the right to make that decision yourselves.

"And _–_ in all my life, I have never witnessed such bravery from those so young as I have this evening. Not to mention such _impressive_ magical skill. We will not forget it _–_ this _school_ will not forget it. I know the last year has been incredibly hard, harder than any of you should have had to endure. And I know what you all did for this school, and for it's more vulnerable students. The courage when faced with danger, the quick thinking when under such immense pressure, the kindness you showed when it was so hard to look after yourselves let alone others," McGonagall's eyes flitted to Nott, "not to mention the subtle cunning used to help your friends _–_ none of it will not be forgotten."

The group stood still; everyone else seemed as unsure as Neville was about how to respond to such an emotional speech from Professor McGonagall. Her eyes, still glistening with unspilled tears, glided over the group, and settled on him. He smiled at her, trying to convey his understanding, and she nodded at him briefly.

The group mumbled 'thank yous' and 'goodbyes' as they turned and finally made their way into the castle, trudging through the ruins and up to the painting of Barnabus the Barmy on the seventh floor. It seemed that they all wanted to return to this room together, the place that had kept them safe. The door appeared and they passed through it, noting that the room remained unchanged since before the battle. But as Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Nott passed through the door, clasping their hands of Padma and Parvati respectively, there was the loud sound of rustling fabric.

Neville's eyes, along with the rest of the Army's, looked up at the ceiling to see a fourth banner unveil itself, adorned with Salazar's coat of arms and the green and silver colours of Slytherin House. Neville smiled, as he and Hannah found a hammock to curl themselves up into, in the place that had very much become the Fifth Common Room of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

* * *

 **Notes** : Huge thanks to Rachael and IKEAwhatyoudidthere for your help.

And so? What do you think? I'd love to know!


	52. Epilogue: Silver Lining

**A/N:**

So, I've actually written two epilogues for this story because I couldn't decide on Lavender's fate! :o) I'd decided on this one, but with the current climate of the Coronavirus pandemic, I had some hesitancy about whether I should post it, because of its main theme. However, I've stuck with it because it just feels the 'right' one for this story :o) I will be posting the alternative epilogue as a separate one shot on AO3 and FFN, entitled 'The Visitor', so feel free to check that out too!

* * *

Ch. 52 Epilogue: Silver Lining

_'"_ _ _There's the silver lining I'm looking for.'"__

\- Ginny, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

 ** **Seamus****

The floral scent reached Seamus over the summer breeze as he walked down the path through the churchyard towards the chapel. He instantly recognised it _–_ he'd spent nearly every night of his Easter holidays breathing in the scent of the dried flowers, which had emitted from the folded parchment Lavender had given him lying beneath his pillow.

Seamus blinked as he entered the chapel, his eyes adjusting from the bright sunshine to the darker interior. Looking around, he noticed numerous bunches of the lilac flowers standing proudly in small glass vases that were suspended magically around the walls of the chapel. It was a beautiful tribute, and Seamus felt the threatening sting of tears in his eyes.

The pews were full of witches and wizards and Seamus paused at the top of the aisle, unsure where to go, trying not to let the swathes of people overwhelm him. Sadly, funerals had been a common affair in the British magical community over the last month or so, but this seemed to be a particularly well attended one.

"Hi, Seamus," a gentle voice said by his shoulder. He looked around and saw Parvati smiling at him sadly, with Theo Nott standing just behind her. Seamus nodded at them in greeting; he wasn't sure what would happen if he tried to speak. Seeming to notice how lost he was, Parvati continued. "There's a place for you at the front," and she gently took his arm and led him down the aisle.

He caught sight of Harry, with his arm round Ginny's shoulder, standing next to Ron who was holding hands with Hermione. As he exchanged smiles and nods of acknowledgment with them, he felt a stab of irrational envy _–_ something he didn't want to feel _–_ because the ones they loved had managed to survive. But even as he thought it, he knew it wasn't a __true__ thought, let alone a fair one. They'd lost people too. Everyone had, and Harry more than most.

As he continued down the aisle, he recognised more faces. It seemed that all of Dumbledore's Army were here, as well as the whole teaching faculty of Hogwarts, and Seamus knew that Lavender would have loved that.

Finally, he reached the end of the aisle. The Brown family appeared to have saved him a seat in a pew at the front and, relieved to get away from the pitying glances of the funeral guests, Seamus slid into it.

Parvati introduced him to Lavender's parents _–_ a stoic looking woman with an elaborate black hat, and a pained-looking man with a full beard _–_ Iris and Frederick. The woman gave him a strained smile.

"She told us about you," she whispered, her voice trembling, no doubt on the brink of tears. "We knew you were special to her."

Seamus opened his mouth, but the words that came out were not enough, he knew that: "She was _–_ everything... I'm sorry."

Iris' smile lifted and she reached out a hand and patted Seamus awkwardly on the arm, before withdrawing it and turning to face the front as the vicar started the ceremony.

After the vicar's introduction, and the playing of a __Seven Sirens__ song, Neville approached the pulpit. Seamus had been asked to do a reading, but had known he wouldn't manage it, and Parvati had admitted the same. Hence, their thoughts had been combined into Neville's speech.

Neville paused before beginning, looking down at his parchment, and Seamus saw him take a deep breath. The chapel was silent, as if everyone had taken a breath with Neville, waiting patiently for him to start speaking. Eventually, he looked up, and spoke steadily.

"I know what it's like to have people underestimate you. And I think there was a time when we all underestimated Lavender Brown…"

Seamus had already read Neville's speech more than once and this helped him feel less guilty as his mind drifted...he couldn't recall what he'd been thinking about when he re-focused on the room and Neville was finishing:

"She died fighting, and we'll remember that sentiment as we go forward with our lives. Lavender was one of the bravest of us, the best of us. We'll not let her death go to waste."

The chapel swam behind a curtain of Seamus' tears.

A little later, as the mourners started to quietly depart from Lavender's graveside, Seamus stood by the mound of earth, still, stiff and unmoving, with a fresh sprig of lavender clasped in his hand. Dean appeared by his side.

"The wake's at a pub in the village, just down the lane. You coming, mate?" he asked softly.

Seamus gave his friend a weak smile. "Sure. I'll be there in a minute."

Dean nodded, understanding, and gave Seamus a few gentle slaps on the shoulder before silently walking away.

Seamus looked down the path at the departing guests _–_ at Parvati and Theo, and Padma and Daphne _–_ and wondered at what it meant that they had survived while others had not.

But whether it was luck, fate, or random chaos, Seamus knew that Lavender would not have dwelled on such questions. She would have grieved her losses, yes, but then she would have picked herself up and carried on. She would have found the light in every situation, and even if she couldn't see it, she would have believed it was there, like the sun behind a grey cloud, creating a shimmering silver lining.

And so would he. He would think of what Lavender would have done, what Colin would have said, what Michael would have thought, and the jokes that Fred would have made. It would be his way of remembering them. Because if he let their deaths beat him, it would be like Tom Riddle had won after all. And Seamus would not stand for that.

As Neville had said, he wouldn't let their deaths go to waste.

Seamus placed the sprig of lilac flowers down onto the fresh mound of earth that marked Lavender's grave, straightened up, looked up at the sun that was breaking through the clouds, and followed his friends down the lane.

* * *

 **A/N:**

So that's a wrap! Oh my gosh, this was one of the first HP stories I ever started writing, back in the summer of 2018. It tipped me over the edge of the HP fanfiction rabbit hole and since then I have written over 20 separate stories and become quite immersed in the HP fanfiction fandom! It's been quite a journey and thanks again to everyone that's given this a read, especially if you've shared your thoughts with me along the way! As ever, any more thoughts and reviews are welcome and loved!

As ever, thanks to Rachael and IKEAwhatyoudidthere for your help with this.

So what's next for me? I've started writing an 'eighth year' story, with the main pairing being Hermione/Draco. It won't be a sequel to this as such but some characterisations will remain the same and some events that happened in this story will be part of 'canon' in that one. I won't be posting it for a while yet though, because Covid is keeping me busy…

Keep reading and writing, and stay safe my fellow Hazza P fans! :o)


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